The Journeyman Trilogy.
by Lynx Traveller
Summary: A young Predacon battles with an unseen force; hallucination? or prophecy... (Part one of a series) Revised Edn. PLEASE R&R!!!
1. Unsteady beginnings

Disclaimer:

All organizations and places belonging to Hasbro and any of its partners are still their registered property; I make no attempts to challenge their copyright. However, all new characters, concepts, organizations, places, and anything else that doesn't belong to Hasbro is mine and can only be used with express written consent by me.

A/N This is the revised edition of my first ever fic. I was reading through it last night as a reference for the next chapter that I've been working on, and I decided to upgrade it to my current standard, as well as fix up a few things that had been annoying me.

Over the next few days I'll revise the rest of the chapters, and hopefully by then the next pat will be ready to upload.

Anyway, if you can spare the time, I'd really appreciate reviews; I didn't get that many for them last time, and being my first fic I sort of got a bit discouraged (hence the time taken to do the next chapter)

Finally, I'd like to thank Nightdragon for his support and patience whilst beta reading this fic, I know I must've been a real pain at the time.

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"Slagging, festering damn heap of junk; by the Pit!"

"Lieutenant; anyone'd think that you were a sailor the way you swear, now what's wrong?"

"Sorry captain, it's just this sla.. fes.. uh, sorry, it's this damn terminal; it keeps fritzing out. I've tried everything, but it's really playing up."

The captain leaned over to get a closer look; just then it came back on, crisp and clean.

"There, you see.. oh frag!"

 I looked in horror at the image on the display screen; it was a picture from one of the many satellite-cameras that showed the external of the hull. Abeam to us, on our starboard side was a ship easily 100 times the size of ours. A red beam shot out from its nose. The next scene was utter destruction; the whole rear portion of the ship was completely cut away _(note; if you've seen starship troopers, then the scene where the transport is cut in half by the bug-blast is pretty close to this.)_

Breach-foam sprayed out of the severed portions, like mech fluid out of a gaping wound; it was designed to seal tiny tears, nothing like this.

The mechanised voice of the ships computer droned on in the background, I didn't hear it.

"_Hull integrity critical. Engine rooms not responding. Total system failure in 6 cycles, life support failure in 3 cycles."_

The bridge was rocked violently by the engines in the rear portion exploding; at least they were separated when they blew, but not that that would help our chances of survival.

I watched in horror as the monitor showed several small black spheres being released from the enemy ship; they were about 3 feet in diameter. Their beams cut away the sealed sections of the ship as easily as an energon blade through synth-flesh. Nothing could stop them; I tracked their dispersal through the ship, the horrified screams from the comms ringing in my ears.

The blast shield behind us glowed a deep crimson, before a large hole opened in it. One of the spheres flew in; it was black all over, and hovered in mid air. It was definitely mechanical, but nothing like anything that I'd ever seen.

It turned from me to the captain; I could see the worried look on her face.

It turned back to her, and four circular hatches opened just below the equator. The captain screamed. It was cut short by the sound of high-speed projectiles; the viciously hooked flechette tore through her body; mech fluid sprayed everywhere, coating the walls and the sphere, reducing the captain to a messy pulp. I estimated about 2000 shots fired before it stopped. I heard the click of reloading, then it spun around and faced me, I screamed.

I was hit in the head by a pillow.

"Hey Nightwing, cut down on the stim-caff eh? You scream like a girl."

I groggily opened my eyes, hovering in front of my head was one of the black spheres. I froze, completely unable to move, desperately trying to blink away the sleep. The sphere resolved itself into the model of Unicron I had suspended from the ceiling above my head.

"Man, you need counselling or something; you're really whacked!"

I sat up on my bunk and checked my chrono; just 25 cycles to get ready for the days' learning.

I put my hand to my head; man, what a headache! 

"Heh heh, looks like someone had a good night last night! I bet you can't remember much of it."

I rolled over and threw Banshee's pillow back at him, I smiled as he unexpectedly jerked backward and fell off the top bunk. I jumped lightly down off mine.

"Come on Banshee, we're going to be late for munitions practice if we don't hurry" I said, grabbing my sidearm out of the chest at the foot of the bunk.

"Yeah, like you really need it." although Banshee was always making jokes at my expense, I could detect the hint of respect in his voice.

I grinned, "You want some lessons?"

Banshee just glared; it wasn't that we were enemies, or anything like that, probably not even rivals. We just liked slagging off at each other.

Just before I ran out the door, I glanced in the small mirror that I had hanging at the foot of the bed. I never knew why I'd gotten it, since my face never changed, but it just seemed like the sort of thing to have.

I stared at my reflection; my body was mostly black and silver, but on my arms and face there were several patches of black organic leather, I always assumed that they were for aesthetic purposes. When I was younger, I always wanted to get rid of them, but now I felt that they added some character to my appearance. On my shoulders were the wings that became my wings when I transformed into seeker mode; it was an unusual arrangement, as they basically thinned out and elongated, before becoming almost extensions of my upper arms, pointing straight up. Primus must've had a new concept in mind when he'd told Vector-Sigma how to design me.

Although I was a Pred, I had declined to have any emblems visible on my body; I just didn't like the insect motif that the Predacon high electorate had chosen when they differentiated out from the Decepticons.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………

I dove away, and narrowly missed being caught up in the explosion as the frag-grenade landed at my feet. I got hit in the leg with a few pieces of shrapnel, but the combat droid that fired it lost its head, and most of it's body, before it got a chance to break the gun and reload it.

Turning, I fired at the flyer that was about to take my head off with the ring of rotors around its circular rim. I jumped and somersaulted over a kamikaze droid that looked like a huge roller, and jammed my energon blade down into it's core, narrowly missing the kiloton of explosives packed into it's barrel-shaped frame. Reaching down into the hole my sword had made, I pulled out the detonator and threw it at a massive tracked droid that looked like it had once been part of a heavy-lifter before some mad-man had re-fitted it with every weapon it could hold. The detonator lodged in somewhere near one of the drive motors and nestled up against the munitions store for it's massive rocket launcher. _Perfect _I thought, and fired at the detonator. The track blew off the droid; I ducked as it sailed over my head. I jumped behind the wrecked flyer, just as the rockets blew up. I stood there for a nano-cycle, then spun, just in time to slice the razor-disk that had been fired at my head neatly in half. My plasma blast reduced the wall port that had fired it to little more than a molten smear.

The dimmed lights came back on. I heard clapping; the dura-steel door on the training chamber opened, and in stepped the sergeant.

"Well done, I knew that you'd give us a good show; pity you made such a mess" he said, pressing a cigar into the still-glowing wall where the disk-shooter had been; it lit up from the heat.

No one knew why he smoked; several of us had snuck into his quarters once when we were really young as a dare, inside there had been a cartoon pic of a strange robot wearing a brown sergeants uniform, with a cigar hanging from it's skeletal jaw. I learned later that the pic had come from an Earth game, and we figured that that was also where he'd learned to smoke. Or at least, that was where the concept had come from.

He walked over to the battle-droid that I'd fried, and picked up the twisted remains of its break-action grenade launcher. The hand was still gripped around it, and hung by a single wire from the remains of the shoulder, which had partially melted to the track-housing.

"I really don't know why they still let you in here; even in live-fire exercises, you really clean up." he tried unsuccessfully to open the grenade launcher; the hinge was fused shut, he threw it down in disgust.

"Good thing that the academy doesn't have to pay for all this."

"Good thing _I_ don't have to pay for all this."

The sergeant nodded, put his hand on my shoulder, and led me out through the blackened door.

"Wow, that was amazing!"

Rift-wing drew up short, looking at my leg; it was actually cut up pretty bad, but I hadn't noticed it.

"You should get that seen to my boy."

"It's just a scratch." I replied.

"Yeah, if you say so."

I looked down again; I could see a trail of little puddles of greyish mech-fluid leading to a larger one forming where I was standing.

Seriously, I hadn't even noticed it.

The sarge shook his head as his star pupil limped off with the young femme toward the medical centre. He sighed and thought again about the black seeker. Nightwing never really talked much about his past, so his early life was never fully understood. All the sarge knew was that even at a very early age he was some sort of prodigy when it came to weapons and fighting. He'd developed a thermo-nuclear device before he could even really comprehend what it was that he'd made. At around 5 years old, he was taken on by the Academy in the hopes that he could be trained properly, and his skills put to good use. 

Nightwing was a strange character; he handcrafted all his weapons, even ones commercially available. The excuse being that he could tell just when they about to break, and that it would be his own fault, and not someone else's.

His main weapon skills encompassed the entire range available, which the sarge knew was a difficult thing to do. But he almost always preferred to use an energon blade for most of his fighting as a matter of honour. The sarge had never seen a student with such a strict honour code, which seemed to dictate that he always try to fight at a disadvantage to his opponent. Despite his preference for a weapon that required great skill to wield, he had at times been seen with an energon staff. 

The sarge again thought about Nightwings sidearm; it was truly remarkable. Many scientists and technicians had tried both during and after the war to reduce the devastatingly effective plasma weapons down to something the size of a pistol, but most of the attempts resulted in a gun with a large storage chamber for the critical mass of the plasma needed to prevent it from self-extinguishing, and a heavy backpack containing the power cell. Because of this, plasma-weapons were usually only used by siege-troops wearing load-lifter combat suits. Somehow however, Nightwing got around this problem by designing three small storage chambers into the handle, which then compressed the shot down into one large shot. The rest of the space was taken up by the equipment needed to create the thin energy-shell needed to contain the shot during firing.

The result was a weapon that was largish by any handgun standards, but well within reason, and considering the punch it offered, it more than made up for it. Nightwing had certainly learned to use it effectively enough.

"Truly remarkable."

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I banged my head hard against my locker; that was one of the worst lectures all year. The time I just wasted learning about astro-navigation physics, and how any object flying in a straight line long enough would actually be flying a slightly curved path, could have been spent servicing my weapons.

Brigand sighed, leaning wearily up against the locker next to mine.

"Man, that 'was' boring. Now what?"

"I've got a four mega-cycle break, I was going to the terminals to looks some things up on the net."

"You mean waste your time! We both know that you've got nothing important to look up."

It was true; I did tend to just waste the megas away, doing nothing other than look up whatever came into my head.  

"Well, I'm personally quite hungry after that waste of time; I'm gonna get something to eat."

I shrugged and followed him to the refectory.

We walked out of the building and out into the sun; it was blinding, Brigand pulled out a pair of glasses.

"Wish I had a pair on me; all this natural light. I'd rather prefer the warm glow from a monitor."

Brigand laughed. We walked across the synth-turf on the quadrangle; other students were seen sitting in groups talking and laughing, some were sleeping, all were relaxed.

I loved academy life; it was always so relaxing, except when there were exams on, or assignments due.

The Academy wasn't like any of the other schools that newly programmed bots were sent to. 

It reminded me of a lot of things I'd read about from Earth; scout groups, cadets, grade school, standard university, and in particular, the 'Gardens' out of the FFVIII game.

Although technically not military-owned, combat training was featured rather heavily for any of the bots interested in learning such discipline-enhancing subjects.

It was generally thought of as a 'private' school, the parents of the students either being rich, or the students being bright enough to be sponsored.

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The refectory always had a strange smell about it; it was nothing like anything else I'd ever smelt.

I was sitting with my back to the door. Brigand sat opposite me, I guess from the distance that we looked just like any other students having our own private conversations.

"There you are!" Rift-wing walked in. "You weren't in your usual spot."

"Brigand wanted something to eat, otherwise I would have been up in the 'sanctuary' warming my terminal seat"

She smiled and sat down next to me.

Rift-wing looked similar to most seekers, except me. You could tell at a glance that we were both from the same generation, but I had discovered that my appearance, and indeed my seeker mode was fairly unusual. She didn't have any organic patches, and she was much lighter in colouring to myself. She was more slender than I was, about the same height, but that didn't detract from her beauty any. Her wings basically kept the same proportions that they had in fighter mode, whereas mine thinned out a lot. Instead of being extensions to her upper arms as mine were, hers attached to the tops of her shoulder blades, and hung parallel to each other down her back.

Although she looked more like the others than she did me, her wing arrangement was still odd; Banshee's and Brigand still had wings which formed a V shape, the same style as the 2B class seekers had during the war.

"Well, well, if it isn't mister head-case."

"Hi Banshee, take a seat." 

"No no, just passing through."

"Good, we wouldn't want to interrupt your passing."

Banshee looked at me strangely; I could see him thinking of an insult, finally, he just gave up and walked away.

"Creep"

"He's not too bad, but he's a lousy room-mate."

"What'd he mean by 'head-case?' "

"Nothing, just these weird dreams I've been having."

Brigand excused himself and left; he didn't feel that he should be interrupting us.

"You know where to find me."

"Catch you later."

"Anyway, about these dreams" Rift-wing asked gently.

"They're nothing really, I just keep having these strange nightmares."

"What are they about?"

I frowned, not really knowing how to answer that; I hadn't known Rift-wing long, but we were sort of an item (at least, that was the impression we gave everyone) but for some strange reason, I always felt like I could talk to her about anything.

"I don't really know where to begin." I stated.

"At the beginning is a good place." she put her hands on mine.

Maybe it was just that she could wheedle stuff out of me easier than everyone else.

"It's hard to explain." I began, "Each one's different, but they're always along the same lines; it's always out in deep space somewhere, out beyond the fringes. In every single one of them there's a disaster or something, which winds up leaving the entire crew dead. They're pretty graphic."

She nodded solemnly.

"I've woken up screaming a coupla times, and Banshee isn't always very polite about it."

"Perhaps they're visions, or something of the future."

"I wouldn't wish that future on anyone. And anyway, I'm not a seer or anything like that."

"I don't think that you have to be a seer to have visions. Besides, they're varying levels of these things; you might just be blessed with foresight."

"How do you know so much about seers? I thought that real ones were exceedingly hard to find, and they hadn't been entirely ruled out as myths."

"I did a project on them once; one of my teachers was heavily into the occult; believed that she could communicate with extinguished sparks or something. She always wore what she considered "spiritual" adornments and always smelt funny, like she'd been rolling in something. I just appealed to her sense of interest with the assignment; I got fairly good marks for it too."

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Running, running so hard we were out of breath.

The communication had been garbled; we couldn't make much sense of it, other than that it warned us that the star around which we orbited was becoming unstable, and that the drop-ship was leaving in three mega-cycles, with or without us.

Ion storms raged over the surface, and our heavy E-suits were stored in the vehicle-shed a few meters from the base. Even so, trying to reach them would have been instantly fatal.

We'd taken the only alternate route; a system of tunnels and catacombs. They'd never been fully mapped, but we figured that with the maps of the areas that were, that we should be able to find a way out.

My partner dropped beside me, a long spear sticking out of his chest. It had gone right through his spark.

I turned and saw the attacker; some sort of reptiloid. It was standing there, readying another spear.

I ran at it, and sliced it in two. Just then, my energon sword felt very hot. I threw it away, just as it exploded.

Slag, the radiation must've damaged the power core.

More of the lizard-men approached; I picked up the primitive spear from the corpse and began swinging, they backed off hesitantly.

I lunged at the nearest one and imbedded the spear deep into his chest; he made a wet rattling sound before he fell to the ground.

I attacked the rest of the group, knowing I was outnumbered. I managed to kill 6 more of them.

I felt a sticky ooze running down my side; I looked down and saw a spear sticking out of it.

That's funny; how'd that get there?

The lieutenant came out of the cave mouth and walked up to his superior.

"It didn't go too well; we met them both in the caverns. They'd obviously been heavily exposed to the radiation, neither of them was sane. I doubt that they even recognised us. They attacked us, and managed to kill 8 of our men. I had no choice but to fire; it took 4 shots on high to bring Nightwing down. We're recovering the bodies now."

The superior sat down heavily on the rock, clad in a heavy E-suit. It being his only protection from the increasing radiation.

"Blast! Hadn't they gotten our communication; we told them to stay put, we were coming to get them."

"They mustn't have gotten the communication right, or they were already suffering from the radiation."

The last scene was of the drop-ship taking off; 2 names were laser-scribed on a large rock at the head of a patch of freshly disturbed ground.

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"Man, that's really deep, being buried on a dirt-ball where no-one will ever set foot again, man."

I'd told Rift-wing about last night's dream; she seemed honestly shocked, and there was something else.

Pity?

Fear of me?

Fear of the future?

Brigand spoke up, it was the next day and we were out in the shade, just enjoying life. "I reckon it's a prophecy or something; Rift-wing's more knowledgeable in these things than me, but that sort of thing just isn't something that you'd dream up Nightwing, it's just not your character. Excuse the pun."

I looked thoughtfully for a moment, then got up and left.

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It was a strange planet; N-class stars are a real rarity, and the science team wanted to check out the planet's surface.

It was completely dark, even though it was around noon. N-class stars are usually stars that burn up their fuel a lot quicker than others. As a result, the light they emit is way out of the visible spectrum, so although the sensors told us that there was light, everything was completely black.

I looked over at where the scientists were unloading sensory equipment; the green glow of the light-amp goggles giving everything a strange greenish tint. Although the light on the planets was well out of our visible spectrum, the goggles had been calibrated to the maximum setting. Yet they were still almost black; I heard constant cursing from the techs as they banged their shins on the crates that they'd unloaded.

I walked over to where the security guard was standing, looking bored. I knew him and I were friends from way back, but I couldn't remember his name.

"Man Nightwing this place would be a good place to set up a training grounds; let the soldiers play their war-games here."

I grinned, although he couldn't see me.

"You got that right…"

I was about to say more when I was interrupted by a huge flash; someone screamed.

"Hey, you techs! Stop wasting those flares!"

I heard a low growl behind me; I turned around and was immediately blinded. I heard firing, and an animal yell.

I was rushed to the infirmary, it turned out that three scientists were missing. My optics were alright; the photo-sensors were partially scored by the intensity of the light, which was amplified by the goggles. They'd recover in time.

"What was it?"

"We don't know, but it was definitely organic. We guess that in this light, that it uses some sort of high-intensity flare to damage the eyes of its prey. You're lucky to be alive"

_I hate it when people say that._

Over the next few days, more and more of the crew disappeared. A hunting party was sent out, but they never returned. It seemed that the creatures were actually sentient, possibly even more intelligent than us.

"Damn, I can't raise anyone on the comms."

"Keep trying; it must just be atmospherics."

Even though I was blind, I could still hear the hollow empty sound of the circulation fans wind down; I didn't need the startled cries of the techs to know that the power had been cut.

I heard screams; I could only imagine what was going on.

I felt a hot breath on my cheek.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Banshee was sitting up on his bed; he'd tired of taunting me, and I think that he was now genuinely scared of me.

I'd seen the academy medic; she prescribed drugs to make me sleep better, but they only seemed to numb my defences; aggravating the dreams. It also made it very hard to wake up.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………

The ship had crash-landed somewhere; it had been pulled through the warp, and we had no idea where we were.

Crewmembers were dropping all over the place; there seemed to be some sort of plague sweeping through the ship.

Falling, falling so fast. I tried to transform to my jet mode, but I knew before I even started to transform that I was falling way to fast.

I heard my wings fold back and tear off under the strain, I was only dimly aware of the pain.

The ground rushed up toward me.

Screams, blood-curdling screams. There was total panic; the hull had been breached. I saw the red glow on the walls, and felt the searing heat of the beam cannon; my organic components were on fire. I was conscious to the end. 

The walls were covered in a layer of mech fluid; the ceiling dripped with the stuff. There were body parts all over the place; we had no idea what had happened. After that electrical discharge in the engine rooms, we'd crashed landed on some sort of asteroid. The census taken showed 84% of our 10,000 crew slain, I heard a rattling in the air vents. There it was. It looked like it had once been one of the ensigns; it had a scrap of blue armour-etched chest-uniform still hanging on its chest. It had been horribly mutated; huge fangs hung from its mouth, and it's arms reached to the floor. It's claws, easily 4 feet long, scraped the floor behind it as it hunkered over. It charged, I pulled out my weapon and removed its head.

It apparently didn't need it; it kept running. I could feel the claws slide into my body, feel the life force draining away through the gaping wounds in my chest, I collapsed in a pool of my own mech fluid on the floor.

The engines were damaged. All crew dead. I'd ejected in the only stasis pod available, just as the ship blew apart.

There was something wrong with the stasis pod; all my systems were locked down, I couldn't move and wouldn't age, but for some reason I was conscious; conscious and unable to move. 

For the rest of eternity…

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I tried very hard not to let the dreams influence my studies, and I nearly succeeded. I just didn't think about them. I was made of stronger stuff, but my friends noticed the way I was becoming more and more withdrawn. I tended to spend more time in the bar at nights, quite often reading or partying until daybreak just to avoid sleeping. I started falling asleep in some of the more boring subjects, but luckily I managed to keep the screaming down, and the lecturers didn't seem to notice.

I had looked up the seers on the net, and while most was just myths and stories written by creative minds who had far too much time on their hands, I did find a few scraps of the theory behind their existence, but certainly nothing like what I was experiencing.

The months wore on, and the year began to come to an end. I agreed with my friends that perhaps it was all just stress, and that a break from academy life might just give me the rest that I needed.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………

It was the last day of the school year, I'd just returned from the infirmary to the sound of cheering. It was standing orders that if anyone on off-world missions came across an S-series hunter that they were to destroy it on sight. The S-series were designed to be self-evolutionary, and were a weapon against the last remanents of the Quintessons. Their self-evolutionary abilities and sophisticated AI meant that they were deadly warriors, completely uncontrollable, and packed with whatever weapons that they cared to develop and construct over their lifespan.

We'd arranged it some time ago; there were reports of a captured S-series that was in stasis somewhere in a warehouse nearby, as part of someone's private collection. It had taken 12 soldiers to capture it, and they were all badly wounded. Since it was illegal to even have one, the academy secretly requisitioned it, in order to destroy it.

It had been a grand fight; most of the student body turned out to witness the gladiatorial-style fight between me and it. It was a tough battle; it had had a long time to develop and was massive in every sense of the word. Easily twenty meters high, and blistering with every type of weapon imaginable.

I'd sustained several injuries, as well as a busted shoulder. My right shoulder wing fluttered uselessly, but it was a good fight; everyone had thought that it had me when it started using its tentacle-like chain-whips. That's where I got the busted shoulder; I jumped out of the way and didn't see the wrecking-ball arm.

Anyway, I'd eventually managed to jump from limb to limb and ram my energon sword down into its only eye. It struggled a bit and threw me off, cracking a few ribs under my exo-skeleton, but it couldn't get a bead on me, and I'd finally managed to blow it's core with one of it's own grenades.

The cheering grew louder as I came out into the light. I raised my fists above my head, basking in their praise.

It took nearly a full mega-cycle to finally get back to my room. I'd been constantly stopped by other students to congratulate me, and I was feeling pretty tired from the battle.

My room was completely empty. I climbed up to my bunk, and there was a letter propped up against my pillow.

I opened it; it was a letter from the Arch-chancellor, requesting my presence in his office.

The secretary beamed at me as I opened the door, and asked how my shoulder was. We small-talked for a bit until I was called in.

The Arch-chancellors office was a massive dome; the walls and ceiling covered with scenes out of all four great wars. There were statues spaced equally around the room; I recognised many of them from the Decepticon Hall Of Heroes. Many of them hadn't been seen since the epic scene where Galvatron busted in on Starscreams coronation and vaped him. 

_So that's where they got to._

 Around the room were the rest of my friends; Brigand was pacing back and forth, Rift-wing was sitting in a chair bouncing her knee, Banshee was leaning heavily against the wall; he had a rag out and was polishing his gunblade.

"Students." The Arch-chancellor stood behind his ornate desk, and beamed at us.

"I have heard many great things from your lecturers and peers about you four, as have the scouts from the Predacon high-electorate."

We all looked at each other questioningly.

"Due to your exploits, you four have been chosen for a wonderful opportunity; it really is once in a lifetime." He leaned forward over his desk, savouring the feeling of pride for his academy, which had taught such promising students.

"As you know, the Predacons and Maximals have sought unity for a while, and we've finally managed to develop a project between both factions; it is to be seen as a symbol of peace and unity, the dawning of a new age."

"You four have been chosen as special crew aboard a new long-range exploration cruiser designed for the task of travelling to the very boundaries of the galaxy. You've all earned your places, and I'm proud of you, it is of course your decision whether or not to undertake this opportunity, but if you do, then you will all be held in the highest esteem. Your studies will be postponed until you return, and you will all receive special credit points."

I stood shocked. This couldn't be happening, it just couldn't. Just over a mega-cycle ago, I'd been at a peak; my movements were controlled entirely by instinct. Now, I doubt that I could have lifted my legs and run, even if I'd been able to think of doing so.

Banshee stopped polishing, and nodded, Brigand leapt up whooping. Rift-wing glanced at me, and replied.

"I speak for myself as well as Nightwing when I say: sign us up!"

I couldn't have refused even if I'd wanted to; I couldn't even think.

The arch chancellor beamed at us even more. "I'm sure the Predacon High-electorate will be most pleased."

I was still frozen to the floor as Rift-wing and Brigand grabbed my arms and dragged me back out.

It was roughly 4 mega-cycles before I could finally speak again (at least, I think it was four mega-cycles; I'd lost all track of time, but that was about how long it had been since I entered the Arch-chancellors chambers.)

Only one question came to mind; "Why?"

Rift-wing answered, "There are several reasons why, not least of which is that it's a unique opportunity. But there are others; you need to face your fears for one thing; it's the only way to deal with them. Also, you need answers, and besides, someone's gone to a lot of trouble to cause those premonitions; you don't want to disappoint them now, do you?" I assumed she meant the fates with that last comment.

I still couldn't get over it, but when Banshee and I returned to our room, our new uniforms were already laid out on the beds; although robots technically didn't wear clothing, it was more for ceremonial purposes. We were after all still students. If we later signed up with the navy, then our body-armour would be re-painted and laser-etched in the fashion of the Cybertronian Armada.

I guess I could have just told the Arch-chancellor that I'd made up my own mind; it didn't occur to me until later that if I had, then the premonitions should have gone away, but I couldn't bear to let my friends go off alone after the thing's I'd seen (not that I'd been able to protect anyone in my visions; but I'd still feel guilty for chickening out and letting them be killed.).

I dreaded going to sleep that night; just knew that this would be the worst premonition yet, but strangely, either I didn't dream that night, or I didn't remember it. I guess that any dream would have paled with the fact that it was all about to come true.

The parties lasted a whole week; end of year parties were usually wild, but there were several in our honour. The attention was almost embarrassing. I didn't mind attention if I'd earned it, but we hadn't done anything yet. Needless to say, I wasn't really the life of the party. I knew that the next time that I saw these faces that they'd be far more sombre. Assuming I'd ever see them again.

The ship had been christened the _Journeyman,_ a ship that size hadn't been seen since the likes of the _Ark. _

Considering the levels of miniaturisation done to our physiologies since those times, then it truly was a colossal ship. Something like that couldn't have existed if it weren't for the combined efforts of Maximal and Predacon.

It was the most advanced ship ever created; it was heavily armed, and designed to be prepared for anything. Crew complement consisted of 2,842 enlisted, 7,000 scientists, 100 techs, 50 engineers, a full complement of diplomats, tacticians, and ambassadors, and 8 specialists.

_Totalling 10,000 _I thought.

She really was a wonderful sight, but I couldn't help having the feeling that she was a ghost ship.

_Or would soon be._

As I headed up toward the boarding ramp, the sergeant jogged up to me, and held out a small leather parcel. "I made this just in case you ever needed it"

"Thanks but you shouldn't have."

"Nonsense; consider it a reward for doing so well against the hunter or something."

I opened the small package; inside was a knife in it's own leather sheath; the blade was about a foot long. I looked down at the sonic-knife and rolled it around in my hand. I unsheathed it and activated its power switch; there was a high-pitched whine, which quickly grew above the level that my sensors could detect. The steely-coloured blade, vibrated by the sonic emitter, changed to a dull straw colour and then quickly went through the spectrum until it was white-hot; I could feel the heat on my hand where I held it around its hilt. I switched it off.

"I know that they're illegal, but it just might come in handy."

_Fate, it seems, has a sense of humour._

I looked at the sergeant and thanked him.

"Hey, don't look so glum; I'm one of the 2,842 enlisted. I applied for a position when the keel of the Journeyman was laid down, and I was informed yesterday that one of the officers had been caught in an accident at the shipyard and so I got his place. He's recovering, but he'll miss his flight. I'd already made your little present, and so I'd thought it right to give to you anyway."

I only half heard him; already this journey was shaping up to be bad. I'm not superstitious or anything, but an injured crewman this early in the trip had to be some sort of omen.

I thanked him again and returned his salute. I turned and walked toward the boarding ramp.

As soon as my foot touched the slightly green metal of the ramp I felt like I'd been electrocuted; it was as if the ship had seen what was in my mind, and was recoiling in fear. As far as I knew, the ship wasn't sentient; it must have been another premonition.

"There you are" the guys ran up to me, "we've been looking all over for you."

"We'd hoped you'd chickened out" chuckled banshee, "at least I don't have to put up with your dementia this trip."

I looked around my room; I kinda liked the jade pattern on the walls. In one corner was a small basin, and in the other was an energon slot. The foot of my bed faced toward the door, and there was a window above my head.

I'd read up on the ship before I came aboard; our mission was one of peaceful exploration, but we were armed in case we came across any trouble. We were supposed to travel round the galaxy, investigating several areas of interest. The ship was equipped with a trans-warp drive, but since it was only a short-range time-travel device, it wouldn't be too helpful here. The main form of travel was ion engines; these being considered the most efficient form of travelling over such distances. Since the engines were almost 100% efficient, only small amounts of fuel are needed to produce large amounts of thrust. The general concept as that the fuel is sprayed into a chamber where it is vaporised into a plasma-vapour. This plasma is then fed through an energised plate that polarises the vapour; it is then magnetically drawn to an oppositely charged plate in the nozzle of the engine. It is then ejected out the rear at a tremendous velocity, producing large amounts of thrust.

 The general idea was to engage a short trans-warp hop, then travel faster than light on ion engines. I knew enough from my few moments of paying attention in class to know that a body travelling faster than the speed of light is immune to the effects of time. It would still take us roughly 500 years to reach our first destination; a small outcrop of stars roughly 10,000 light-years away, but according to the theory, the rest of time would stand still; we'd arrive a fraction of a second real-time after we left.  The mission was scheduled to take four years, but this was to remain flexible. Stasis pods were provided for the entire crew to be used during transit periods; most of the four years real-time would be devoted to studying and exploring.

I heard the message over the comm.; "All stations, the mission will commence in 5 cycles."

I headed off toward the bridge, my friends had had the same idea. It was nothing like anything I'd ever seen. It looked like a war-room; there were screens everywhere, and just as many seats.

I walked up to the captain and tore off a textbook-perfect salute.

"So, this is the famous Nightwing eh? I've heard a lot about you."

"I hope it isn't all bad."

The captain laughed; she appeared young, perhaps just out of school, but her bio had said that she'd been a captain for nearly ten years; which meant that she looked a heck of a lot younger than she was.

"Not 'all' bad, but most."

I looked blank until I saw her grin.

"I'm Captain Essara, but everyone just calls me Sara."

"That's a bit informal isn't it?"

"True. It used to be said that the crew lost respect in the captain if he wasn't a complete discipline-freak, but I've had ten years of field experience to rethink that; I've tried both ways, and in a crisis situation I prefer to have the crew thinking independently and not be worrying about being reprimanded by the captain for their actions."

"That makes sense."

An ensign saluted the captain.

"All crew have reported in captain."

"Take us out."

I looked out the view-port, and saw my home planet slip away. As a seeker, I'd flown above it all countless times, but never as far out as where we're going. The atmosphere visibly thinned from a deep blue to black, and then we were in orbit.

Banshee walked up to me, "Hard to believe it'll be almost a million years before we see it again." I could sense apprehension as well as excitement in his voice."

I'd never really been good mates with Banshee, but still, we all had to get along on this mission.

"Just be careful, ok?"

"Don't tell me about your "visions" psycho, I don't want to catch anything."

"Even still, just watch your back."

"You watch your own, don't worry about me."

I knew that he was acting tough just because I'd lowered my guard and had tried to show some concern, but even still, I could tell that deep down he knew that I wasn't nuts. He more than likely believed that I wouldn't have had such a problem if there wasn't one.

"All systems are go captain."

"Punch it!"

The scene outside the view-port vanished, and was replaced by tiny pinpricks all round. The screen in front of me circled a very small faint one, and I knew that that was home.

_To be continued…_

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………

So, what'd you think?? Please R&R


	2. Old Aquaintences.

Disclaimer:  
  
I don't own Beast wars, Hasbro does, I however own all new characters, places, organizations, concepts et al. Nothing that's mine can be re-used without my permission.  
  
"Touch" is written my Stan Bush for the Transformers movie, Scotti Brothers records. It can be found at www.thetransformers.net  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -----------------------------------------------  
  
I heard a whooshing sound. I looked around; it had been roughly 500 years since I'd last done that, there was still some frozen cryo-fluid build-up in the corners. I checked my internal chrono; although it had also been stopped by the stasis pod, it was part of the pod's design specification to reset them upon re-activation. I'd been frozen and offline for nearly 502 years, I could see that I'd have to re-reset it to real-time.  
  
I felt something licking my cheek.  
  
"Mirage, leave him wake up by himself"  
  
I sat up and looked at the elfish metallic face staring inquisitively back at me.  
  
"I thought that turbo-foxes were hunted to extinction?"  
  
"They were, or were very nearly, I got Mirage several years ago."  
  
I grinned, seeing the joke.  
  
"I bet I can guess where you got the name from."  
  
The captain smiled, confirming my thoughts; Mirage was possibly my favourite Autobot, but he was never really trusted by his comrades due to his indifference to the war. He was also on several occasions thought to be double-crossing the Autobots; on at least one occasion he was found with one of Soundwaves energon cubes, and he'd been caught talking with both Ravage and Starscream on several occasions. His weapon was a large hunting rifle, with which he'd made quite a name for himself back on Cybertron fearlessly hunting helpless turbo-foxes.  
  
I got up out of the pod and grabbed my head in my hands. What a headache!  
  
"Just a bit of stasis-lag, you'll get over it."  
  
I looked out my window, and caught my breath; it was absolutely stunning!  
  
"Yes, it is quite impressive isn't it?"  
  
I nodded, unable to speak.  
  
We were of course, passing through the nebula known as N1029, more commonly referred to as the Prime nebula. It was discovered around 2005, and bore a slight resemblance to Optimus Primes head; complete with the horns. There were still people who believed that it came about after Prime's death as a sort of tribute. A nice thought, but an unlikely one.  
  
We were passing though a small wisp of the nebula; I could see on the monitors the way that it got caught up in out wake, and left little eddies behind us.  
  
There was no special reason why this certain celestial object was chosen to be visited, it just was. But it was thought that since it was composed of super-cooled hydrogen; the hydrogen was so cold and compressed that it formed molecules- molecules that would eventually condense into a brand new star. It was felt we might as well use the opportunity to refuel, even though we'd only used up only 2% of our fuel so far.  
  
I'd heard of several others who wanted to take the opportunity to go outside, I eagerly joined them.  
  
My jet form was somewhat different to most others, which bore a slight resemblance to the late-model seekers used during the last war, the only real difference being that the nose was flatter, and the wings were swept forward. The still looked fairly similar to the flying wedges though.  
  
Mine looked completely different; it bore a striking resemblance to the old Earth F-22. In fact I'd been shocked at the resemblance when one day Brigand and I were surfing the net, and he'd pulled up an old archival picture of one.  
  
Earth; I wonder where in the galaxy it was. A lot of Human and Nebulan organic concepts were used in our physiologies, but Cybertronians hadn't made contact with either race for over 300 years (actually, it was 800 to us) the locations of the two planets were lost to us some time during the Golden age; my history was a little rusty on that topic, but the second and third great wars had knocked Cybertron out of it's orbit and over thousands of years it had ended up quite close to Earth. The scientists during the Golden age decided to return Cybertron to it's original location, but in doing that Earth and Nebulan became out of range to all but the largest and longest-range craft. Their locations had been slowly forgotten over time, but someone had the sense to make a sort of map; the Golden disks, but they were under high security in the heart of Iacon and no-one had studied them for years.  
  
One of our missions was supposedly to see if we could find Earth, but without seeing the disk we would just be guessing.  
  
I was shaken out of my musings by the airlock door opening.  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -----------------------------------------------  
  
"It's really something eh psycho?"  
  
I grinned back at the holo projection of Banshee in my internal comm.  
  
I agreed; it looked like a garden, or some sort of artwork, not that I was into that sort of thing.  
  
"Let's see if you can keep up."  
  
With that I opened it right up. I'd never really been into racing, although many of the other students at the Academy were, regularly wasting their creds on upgrades for their jet modes. For the first time ever, I began to see what they saw in it.  
  
Banshee hit the afterburners, trying desperately to catch up; he'd done some races, while I hadn't. I'd only beaten him off the mark because I'd caught him by surprise.  
  
Realising that I didn't have a chance dragging, I decided to change the rules. Banshee narrowly missed slamming into the comm. tower as I slid sideways between it and the bridge.  
  
Not to be beaten, Banshee again tried to catch me up. I dropped down into the trench that ran down the spine of the ship. Upon reaching the bow, I narrowly ducked under the blast shield of the port Ion cannons, and raced back toward the engines. I laughed and checked my scanners; Banshee was nowhere to be seen. I hoped that he hadn't tried to follow me through the blast shield; he had been re-fitted for speed, whereas my design specification had called for thrust vectoring, adding to supreme manoeuvrability. I heard laughter and nearly pulled up into the underside of the blast shield as Banshee blew through under me; it looked as though he'd gone right under the turret, and had skirted around the rotation mechanism. The finish line was in sight; we both knew that the first one to get to the engines first would win bragging rights, even though we'd never actually decided that that was the finish.  
  
I pushed the throttle through the gate; Banshee thought that I had no way of catching him up, and had begun to slow down; he saw me and again accelerated.  
  
Perfect.  
  
I dropped down one of the external vents, and blew through between the inner and outer hull; it couldn't be more than a few meters between there, and there were braces and bulkheads to dodge.  
  
I blew out one of the rear vents, right between the engine nacelles, almost colliding with Banshee. It was a very narrow race, too close to be called, but I still claim that I won. Of course Banshee would argue that.  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ----------------------------------------------  
  
You've got the touch, you've got the power…  
  
Man, I hadn't heard that song for years; I knew that "Touch" was a very popular song during the battle of Unicron; it sort of symbolised the complete hopelessness of the situation.  
  
I paused outside Rift-wings door, and listened in silence to the music playing within.  
  
When all hells breaking loose, you'll be riding the eye of the storm.  
  
Man I loved that part.  
  
You never get hit when your backs to the wall, gotta fight to the end, and you're takin' it all.  
  
I began tapping my foot, and I guess I must've started singing along; the music stopped suddenly, and the door opened.  
  
"Nightwing, how long have you been outside my door?"  
  
"Just got here." I lied.  
  
"Yeah sure."  
  
"Actually, I was listening to the music; I didn't know you liked all that old stuff."  
  
"I don't, just the one song."  
  
There was a silence, neither of us could think of how to continue this conversation.  
  
"So, was there something you wanted?"  
  
"Huh? Oh yeah."  
  
I pulled out a small cylinder, and handed it to her, she turned it around puzzled. I reached over and flipped the power switch. A sphere of sky-blue energon originated near the reflector at the end, before quickly focusing out into a thin energon blade.  
  
Rift-wing gasped, and held it out at arms length. She sook an experimental swing in a slow downward stroke, feeling the finely balanced "gyro" effect. I'd deliberately installed dampeners in the handle, and reduced the width of the blade to try and counter it.  
  
"It's beautiful, but I can't accept it"  
  
"Sure you can, I'd originally built it as a sort of "end-year" present, but I guess it's a little late for that, so consider it 502 years of birthday presents"  
  
She made another slow swing; it hummed quietly with the motion.  
  
She stood there; admiring it for a moment, before switching it off, and handing it back.  
  
"I can't take this, I don't know how to use such a weapon"  
  
I closed her hand back around it, and gave her a meaningful look, one that said that I'd be offended if she refused it.  
  
"I intended to show you how to use it before I even made the case."  
  
She grinned "you don't look too bad yourself for a 520 year old."  
  
I jumped backwards out of the road, somersaulted and immediately leapt forward the second my feet touched the ground.  
  
Rift-wing was actually quite good with the energon sword; she'd never trained a day in her life, but although she would be dead now if she'd faced anyone with even a sonic blade, she was actually pretty good for a beginner. Energon swords were a difficult weapon to master; they worked by having a conductor in the handle near the emitter spinning at near light- speed. The electro-magnetic field that the conductor creates is spun out into a long cylinder, which is then used as a containment field for the energon stream which is fed into it. Because of the electro-magnetic field, they tended to have a strong 'gyro' effect. Although the blade had no mass, the gyro effect made then difficult to wield.  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -----------------------------------------------  
  
It was the last day before we moved on; everyone was relaxed, and I'd almost completely forgotten my visions.  
  
Almost.  
  
I looked out the viewport one last time; it truly was a breath-taking sight.  
  
I'd taken Rift-wing for a short flight earlier this morning, and we were both awed by the beauty we'd seen.  
  
I looked around the observation deck. Most of the crew who were up here had left, the four of us were the only ones still here.  
  
"I can't help but wonder."  
  
I looked over at Brigand.  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"Oh, nothing, I was just thinking."  
  
"It must be a real experience for you."  
  
"Shut up Banshee."  
  
"So, what were you thinking about?"  
  
"Just a bit of everything; I wonder if other races have looked up at this cloud, and thought it was one of their heroes. I wonder if anyone else's ever been here."  
  
I reached down, and scratched behind Mirages ears; I'd become quite attached to the little fellow, he followed me everywhere.  
  
We all sat in silence in our big reclining chairs, just taking in the beauty of the place.  
  
"All crew, we will commence the next leg of our journey in 5 cycles."  
  
I sighed, half-heartedly wondering what the next place would be like. I'd saved heaps of video footage of the nebula, but I knew that the second that the engines engaged, that the moment would be lost forever.  
  
As if on cue, I felt an almost undetectable vibration come up through the floor. I would have missed it if I hadn't been so relaxed.  
  
Rift-wing sighed; I knew how she felt. The wisp of cloud out the viewport started to move, slowly at first, but very soon we had left it behind. Stars seemed to be just white lines out the viewport.  
  
We all sat there for a moment longer, savouring the memory, then one by one, returned to our quarters.  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -----------------------------------------------  
  
I know this scene.  
  
I reached up and scratched behind Mirages ears, anything to stop the assault of his tongue.  
  
"Ok, ok Mirage, I'm up, I'm up."  
  
The captain leaned against the doorjamb, she laughed.  
  
"So, where are you taking us now, oh fearless leader?"  
  
"Looks like someone's in a good mood."  
  
I smiled for no particular reason, just because I could. I guess that even after 2500 years that I was still in a good mood from when we'd left the nebula.  
  
"We're going hunting."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Actually, I felt it time that we went looking for Earth."  
  
"Oh, any luck?"  
  
"Nah, not yet. Didn't really expect to; I felt it prudent that we start searching further out, that way we wouldn't accidentally come out on top of them; that wouldn't make a good impression after 300 years of not having contact."  
  
I laughed, "Sure would be a memorable one."  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -----------------------------------------------  
  
We'd spent nearly 2 months just drifting on 10% power, doing long-range sensor sweeps of the area; we felt from the little info that we were given that we were in the right portion of the galaxy, but out in the spiral arms the stars are further apart. Even so, we'd scanned about 36% of them using long-range 'vanguard'-class sensor frigates.  
  
'I think we've found it captain."  
  
Everyone on the bridge immediately stopped what they were doing, and listened intently to the transmission coming in from one of the sensor ships.  
  
"There's a 72% probability that we've found the right system; a single P- class star orbited by 4 rock planets, and 5 gas planets, there appears to be a large debris belt separating the two"  
  
Even though it was only 72% probability, the crew were elated; it had been a boring 2 months.  
  
The captain waited until the excited chatter calmed down. She was as happy as the rest of us, probably even more so because her crew was happy.  
  
"All right, here's the plan; we'll move to just out of sensor range, to avoid scaring them. Seeing a ship of this size just appear out of nowhere would probably not be a good thing. A diplomatic team will then be dispatched to ascertain if it is indeed Earth. They will then attempt to make contact."  
  
She walked over to my terminal to speak with me privately.  
  
"Nightwing, I want you to join the team."  
  
I guess I looked shocked.  
  
"Are you sure? I'm no diplomat."  
  
"No, but although I'm not expecting trouble, and we certainly don't want an incident, I'd prefer to have someone on the team who can fight if they need to."  
  
I nodded, not for the first time seeing why she was chosen to captain this mission.  
  
There were three of us, although we appeared only two; the diplomat and myself, and then there was the specialist.  
  
Cloaking devices weren't new, but I'd heard that there were experiments to produce people who could cloak indefinitely, but I'd thought them just an urban myth; another government conspiracy story. Back-draft was one of these 'myths'; his type were apparently called 'ghosts', and could cloak and de-cloak at will. They were the perfect spies, heavily modified for every possible circumstance.  
  
The Diplomat and I flew alongside each other, with the ghost about 100 meters off to our right.  
  
The Journeyman had drifted in to just behind the Asteroid belt, and would hide there, until such time as it was needed.  
  
"I read approximately 36 ships approaching from directly ahead"  
  
"Heh, must be the welcoming party, stay sharp"  
  
"Just don't cause an incident"  
  
"I know I know"  
  
The ships approached us in Vic formations of 3, each one slightly above and behind the lead. It was a pretty standard formation, but not as manoeuvrable as some.  
  
"This is lieutenant Jackal of the Confederate alliance to unidentified craft; power down, or you will be fired upon."  
  
It wasn't in my nature so be subservient to anyone, let alone possible hostiles, but I knew better than to make a fuss. I complied.  
  
The formation broke and reformed around us; one abeam either side of both of us, one directly behind, 2 took up flanking positions, one immediately in front, and one above and below us. We were effectively boxed in. I saw a blue ripple on the tail of the fighter immediately ahead of us; I'd wondered the intelligence of deliberately positioning yourself in the line of fire, but he appeared heavily shielded, and I doubted that I'd live long enough to even see the shot impact with the 3 fighters on my tail if I did decide to fire. It was a fairly good formation; neither of us could move without running into at least one fighter, and we'd be easy targets if we did try anything funny.  
  
They apparently hadn't noticed the ghost. The other fighters took up strategic positions around us.  
  
The fighters looked vaguely familiar.  
  
My vid-screen flickered on.  
  
I couldn't speak for what seemed like a full cycle.  
  
The face in the holo was…  
  
Cybertronian??  
  
No, actually, when I looked closer, I could see that the face had a lot more organics than ours did, but it could definitely transform; certainly nothing like the archival pictures I had of the Humans.  
  
The image spoke.  
  
"Under paragraph 10, subsection C of the Confederate alliance, you are in violation of allied controlled space."  
  
The diplomat's holo image appeared next to the lieutenants.  
  
"This is Major Wolfe, emissary of the Predacon-Maximal coalition, we mean you no disrespect; we have come with peaceful intentions. We request an audience with your ambassador."  
  
The Lieutenant appeared to be thinking.  
  
If I was shocked by the appearance of these creatures, then nothing could prepare me for what came next.  
  
All 36 of the ships simultaneously transformed. I knew now where I'd seen that design; they looked almost exactly like the old archival images of the Decepticon defector known as Sky-fire. They all held very large pulse- cannons, and were about the size of our larger ancestors.  
  
(Note; remember the YF-1J Super Valkyries out of Macross/Robotech? it's not surprising that they resembled sky-fire/jet-fire, considering that both the toys came out of the same mould.)  
  
"We will escort you both back to the capital."  
  
With that, the thrusters on the backs of the fighters lit up, and without breaking their formation they herded us deeper into the system.  
  
I opened a private channel with Wolfe.  
  
"Not exactly friendly, are they?"  
  
"Considering the circumstances, I think that they're being quite hospitable; it must've been quite a shock the way we apparently came out of nowhere."  
  
"Surely by now they've realised that there's no way that the two of us could have gotten all this way out here alone?"  
  
"I'd suspect they've guessed that he have a support craft around here somewhere; it's possibly one of the reasons that they're, as you put it "not too friendly"."  
  
I grinned back at him.  
  
Our destination soon became apparent; a Space-station, giant by any standards, loomed ahead of us.  
  
As we drew nearer, a cavernous maw opened in the side of it; I could see massive gun emplacements around the rim of the docking bay; I suspected that if we wanted to, that we'd almost be able to fit at least 6 ships the size of the Journeyman inside.  
  
Inside this docking bay was well lit; it appeared that the very walls were glowing. Not that I could clearly see the walls; they were just too far apart.  
  
There were many different ship types scattered around the giant hangar; I read about 3,000 more like our escorts, plus many different variations. There were corvettes and gunboats of all different sorts, and several capital ships. Whomever these guys were fighting, they were well prepared; I doubted that even with the combined forces of Maximal, Predacon, and the surviving remnants of the Autobot-Decepticon alliance that we'd be able to take them.  
  
Amongst the ships were several other creatures; they looked like giant mechs. Many had repair tools for arms, whilst a few were carrying various components. A large one, painted yellow held coloured batons. It flagged us over to one of the many designated landing spaces; I could see several other mechs lined up around the painted square. All had various forms of artillery.  
  
"Is it just me, or aren't these guys being very diplomatic?"  
  
"I must admit; this does seem a bit like overkill."  
  
We landed; two of our escorts stayed with us, while the others flew up to the ceiling. I looked up; there were probably about another 10,000 of the fighters hanging from docking clamps. Many were transformed, and seemed to be recharging. Constantly moving, they gave the uncanny impression of cave creatures.  
  
I looked over at the escorts; they had reverted back into fighter form. To my astonishment, their canopies opened, and out stepped the "pilots". I'd assumed that they were like us; in that the fighters were sentient beings.  
  
I sighed; better get the shock over and done with; I transformed.  
  
The creature that had appeared in my vid screen walked over to me; he was about a head taller than I was.  
  
He looked me up and down. I expected him to speak, but instead he just turned and signalled that Wolfe and I follow him.  
  
The corridors outside the docking bay reflected nothing of the size of the latter; I doubted that even the smaller mechs would fit in them.  
  
We were led through the corridors by Jackal, and were backed up by at least 20 guards; I had no idea where Back-draft was. I hadn't seen him since the fighters intercepted us.  
  
After what seemed like half a mega-cycle of walking, we finally reached a section of corridor that started to fill out. The walls were hung with ornate pictures; the place reminded me of the Arch-chancellors chamber.  
  
We finally reached two massive carved doors; the guards took up positions either side of them, and we were led through.  
  
This was obviously the stationmaster's chambers; it was decorated even more lavishly than the corridor. In the centre of the room was a large desk. An obviously important figure sat behind it, while another stood off to one side.  
  
"Lieutenant, leave us."  
  
With a bow, he left.  
  
"My Lieutenant informed me that you were within our territory, would you care to explain why?"  
  
Wolfe spoke up. "We are emissaries from the Predacon-Maximal Coalition, we requested a diplomatic audience with you. We meant no disrespect."  
  
I could tell by the hint in Wolfe's voice that although this guy was in charge, that he was just a bureaucrat, not an ambassador.  
  
The figure leaning against the wall stood up, and approached.  
  
"I assume that you are from Cybertron?"  
  
"Yes, that's correct, may I ask who you are?"  
  
"You do know that you are in violation of the treaty between Earth and Cybertron?"  
  
So, these guys were human, but then… Of course! We borrowed many components of both Terran and Nebulan physiologies to use in our own; was it really too hard to believe that the others had done the same?  
  
Parallel evolution theory; helped along by interaction between the different species.  
  
Obviously Earth hadn't been gripped by the materials shortage that Cybertron had; the one that required that our bodies be smaller than our ancestors. These beings were about the height of the ancestral human, but their ships were at least as large as the older Autobots and Decepticons. I guessed that they hadn't been fighting the Millennia-long wars that had been responsible for the exhaustion of our minerals.  
  
I almost missed the next part in my musings.  
  
"That Treaty was signed over 300 years ago; it was thought that Humans had been given enough time to advance, and so the reasoning behind the original treaty; to remove all mechanic life-forms from Earth in order to prevent Earth getting involved with our battles, was thought to be no longer valid."  
  
Oh, 'that' treaty, but…  
  
It suddenly occurred to me that the decision to search for Earth wasn't just a decision by the mission planners; it had been intended from the outset to try and regain contact with the humans.  
  
The human ambassador looked thoughtful.  
  
"You do seem to have a point; we can obviously defend ourselves now, I'll suggest to the Heads of Government that we revise the situation."  
  
He turned to speak privately with the Stationmaster. The door behind us opened, and the lieutenant entered.  
  
"Follow me."  
  
We were led back through the maze of corridors and down several levels; the flamboyant detailing of the rooms above were nowhere to be seen. The corridor was lined with metal doors, into one of which we were led. I couldn't tell if these were the barracks, or the brig.  
  
I had been staring directly at the bed for quite a while now. Not actually looking at it, but just staring off into space. Without even a flicker, a figure appeared right in front of me.  
  
"Heh heh, have fun?"  
  
"You! We'd thought you'd gone, we hadn't seen or heard from you since the fighters turned up"  
  
"Of course you didn't see me; if you had've, I'd be out of a job"  
  
"So, are we prisoners, or is this the way they treat all their guests?"  
  
I spoke up for the first time. "Only one way to find out."  
  
I walked over to the door; it hummed slightly, and an experimental tap with the back of a knuckle revealed that it was indeed electrified.  
  
"Ow! Well, I guess that answers that question."  
  
"Here, let me"  
  
Back-draft headed over to where I stood, a panel on his forearm opened, and he took out several lengths of wire with clips on the end; a bridging kit. Connecting the bridges to the contacts where the door touched the jamb shorted it out, leaving the current running through the wiring and not through the door. Out of his left wrist-hatch, he took a small lock-pick and a tension wrench. The lock on the door opened with a satisfying "click"  
  
Wolfe was visibly impressed. "Man, it must be great to be a ghost."  
  
Back-draft looked sad for a moment. "Not if you knew the torture I went through; 6 years of painful implants. It was thought that if painkillers were administered that my body would reject the new components. It was hell."  
  
I tried the door; it opened easily.  
  
"Hey! You shouldn't be out here!"  
  
Damn, I didn't get very far; there were about 8 guards posted outside the door.  
  
Wolfe spoke up. "It isn't very diplomatic to treat envoys as prisoners."  
  
Oh boy, this guy might be a diplomat, but he is such a nerd!  
  
"You two just keep quiet, someone'll be along for you shortly."  
  
Huh, two?  
  
I looked around; the ghost was nowhere to be seen.  
  
The door closed.  
  
"Back-draft, you still with us?"  
  
No answer.  
  
"Guess not."  
  
By my chrono, they'd kept us waiting for roughly 5 mega-cycles before the "escort" came for us.  
  
We were in a different room this time; I guessed by the hastily applied decorations that it had only recently been converted for it's new function.  
  
The room was filled with beaurocrats. It was almost comic; the storage room now sported 3 circular levels centred around a steel lectern; it reminded me of the old courtrooms I'd seen in the net pics from earth-movies that I'd pulled before we left.  
  
I recognised the current speaker as the ambassador from earlier.  
  
We were ushered to a seat either side of him; the escorts didn't let up their guard for a nano-cycle.  
  
"Gentlemen."  
  
I looked around the room; many of the beaurocrats looked like they'd been dragged from bed, or from late night parties/private venues; none looked too happy.  
  
I guessed that it must be "night" for these guys; our chronos were still set for Cybertronian time.  
  
For the first time since our initial arrival, I started thinking about how far we'd get if we tried to leave; I hadn't seen these guys fight, but judging by the looks of their melee weapons, they didn't look like they'd be too hard; I figured that I could take down maybe 10 or so of them before they over-whelmed me; fighting combat droids was different to the real thing; they all tried to fight; these guys would probably try to all jump us at once.  
  
"I have called this special meeting to address an important issue; we have once again been contacted by the Cybertronians."  
  
There was a general mumbling form the gathered crowd; I guessed that many didn't think that it was 'that' important that they should be disturbed.  
  
I could see beads of clear fluid running down the ambassador's face; I'd read that humans perspired when under stress, but it was still a disturbing site.  
  
I was beginning to see why many of the Autobots like Beachcomber found humans so interesting; they were just so different from us, but at the same time I could see why Tracks, cliff-jumper, and most of the others wanted nothing to do with them. They were just too warlike; they never thought things through. I guessed that they'd be interesting to study, so long as you didn't have to interact with them. Being a ghost would certainly have its advantages. I wonder where Back-draft went?  
  
The ambassador was clearly in trouble; obviously his position was purely for show; he'd never had a days training at addressing the crowd in his life.  
  
Wolfe stood up, much to the surprise of the guards; they pointed their weapons at him. My hand moved to my plasma carbine.  
  
"Hey hey, settle down, I just want to speak on our behalf."  
  
The Ambassador looked shocked, but at the same time relieved; he knew as well as we did that he was doing a really poor job.  
  
"Citizens of the Confederate Alliance, I would like to speak on our own behalf."  
  
There was a general mumbling from the crowd; many had dropped off back to sleep, but this new turn of events was slightly more interesting.  
  
A highly decorated official stood up.  
  
"Very well."  
  
Wolfe cleared his throat.  
  
"Denizens of Earth. 300 years ago a treaty was drawn up between our two worlds halting all contact. It was felt that Earth was in jeopardy of being too heavily involved in the war, and that they would risk retribution from the Decepticons."  
  
More muttering from the crowd.  
  
The official again stood up.  
  
"We all know that part, and we all know that you are in violation of the treaty for being here. What's your point?"  
  
"Sir, I realise that many of you have been offended by our unrequested presence here, and I apologise on behalf of our race, but it was felt that a lot had changed in 300 years. We felt that we should at least know how we both now stand. It is obvious that Humanity has progressed immensely in such a short length of time. We came to request a revision of the treaty."  
  
"What assurances do we have that the conditions have changed sufficiently to warrant such a revision?"  
  
"The political power on Cybertron has changed immensely in the past three centuries. Our ancestors; the Autobots and the Decepticons finally allied, thus putting an end to the conflicts. From that aging party, two new parties have been formed. Predacon and Maximal now share Cybertron in relative harmony, and in any case, I think that you could probably defend yourselves if the situation ever arose."  
  
I spoke up for the first time.  
  
"Citizens of Earth; we realise that what we are asking will take a lot of thought; we don't expect you to make a decision immediately. We aren't just asking to abolish the treaty; we are asking for an alliance between our two races; we have both matured immensely in the last three centuries, and we could both learn a lot from each other. At least consider it on a trial basis."  
  
Heh, maybe I don't make such a bad diplomat after all.  
  
The muttering amongst the crowd grew louder; I'd certainly given them something to think about.  
  
We were escorted back to our 'quarters' until a decision was made.  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ----------------------------------------------  
  
Running so hard; someone behind me tripped; his scream was cut short. I didn't need to look behind me.  
  
There were only 5 of us left; no one else had survived. No one else even knew were even out here.  
  
Sunrise wasn't for another 78 mega-cycles; our reports showed that the creatures on this planet feared the sunlight, but if we didn't find shelter by then than we wouldn't last more than five cycles in such intense solar radiation.  
  
I looked around the room; luckily I'd learned to control the screaming enough that Wolfe hadn't been woken up.  
  
Strange; while I'm on the ship I'm fine, but as soon as I lose contact with it…  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ----------------------------------------------  
  
The decision to revise the treaty was put to a global vote. From what I gathered, Humans liked to grumble a lot over anything. It had taken nearly 2 two weeks for our televised campaign to finally make an impact, and then it had still taken three days for the voting to be concluded.  
  
I fired off my right missile bank; narrowly missing my target, which banked at the last minute. He turned and fired off a volley of mass-driver pellets towards Rift-wing, she laughed and easily evaded them.  
  
Brigand was more fortunate, his burst caught the fighter in the left wing; our team's score went up 1000 points as Rook spiralled temporarily out of control.  
  
The comm. Crackled to life. "That was a lucky shot!"  
  
I laughed back at him as my wing re-joined formation.  
  
Jackal, Rook, Sphinx, and Griphon rejoined their diamond formation.  
  
"Care to go again?"  
  
I laughed back at him. This was fun!  
  
"You think that you can do any better?"  
  
The determination and volley of energy bombs was a perfectly adequate response.  
  
A private channel with Banshee opened up.  
  
"I wish that the Captain would let us do these training exercises more often."  
  
I laughed, for once the two of us agreed.  
  
The polls rested at almost 96% in our favour. Most of the crew of the Journeyman were currently on shore leave. Jackal had approached us as we sat quietly in one of the many bars and asked us if we wanted to "play". I think that we surprised each other with our skills. Once again I marvelled at how much effort Earth had put into protecting themselves against Decepticon incursions.  
  
These guys resembled their larger ships; I'd guessed correctly that they could transform but even still, they were noticeably larger than we were.  
  
I had to laugh at the irony; here I was, clearly modelled after an "advanced" Earth fighter, while these guys had copied Sky-fires physiology.  
  
I banked hard, and my training plasma blasts registered that I'd cut Rook in two. Poor Rook; he wasn't having a very good day.  
  
"Hey, no fair, I thought we agreed no beam weapons."  
  
I laughed back at him; Humans sure hadn't improved on their habit of making excuses when they lost in all this time.  
  
"I thought we agreed no EMP mines, my ears are still ringing."  
  
They hadn't improved on their habit of cheating when no-body was watching either.  
  
"And besides, Plasma cannons aren't really beam weapons"  
  
I laughed at his grumbling.  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -----------------------------------------------  
  
The eight of us were relaxing in an Earth bar. Primus Earth was different from the archival pictures I'd pulled! Parts of it actually looked like home; there were parks with green grass, which would end abruptly, only to be replaced with large metal plates.  
  
It was strange; Earth had taken all these measures to prevent themselves from being overrun by the Decepticons, but in the process had changed their physiologies, and even their planet, to reflect Cybertronian architecture.  
  
There were Cybertronians everywhere; almost as many tourists down here as there were humans back on the Journeyman, it seemed that most of the crew couldn't get enough of Earth.  
  
Our food arrived at our table. Although we technically didn't need to eat food, even Banshee was curious to see what Earth cuisine was like.  
  
We all had to laugh at Brigands stuffing his face; he just couldn't get enough. I'd tried beef goulash out of a can, followed by steak and 3-veg, pineapple and custard, coffee, crab-juice, boiled lollies, and sherbet, to top it all off.  
  
Oh yeah, and a piece of liquorice.  
  
But, I still couldn't see his fascination with pickled gherkins and bell peppers in mushroom soup.  
  
Our next course arrived at the table; the waiter set down something round in front of Brigand.  
  
"What's that?" Rift-wing asked him curiously.  
  
"It's a pizza, only I had the waiter cut it into quarters; I don't think that I could have eaten six pieces."  
  
Sphinx spluttered, before breaking into fits of laughter. Him and Brigand were getting on well together. Brigand looked pleased with himself. Banshee just stared at him like he was some sort of idiot.  
  
A pair of humans ran past chasing each other. In the short time that we'd been here, we'd seen that a lot. Apparently, humans couldn't handle energon; it made their mechanical components over-stimulated. As Sphinx put it, they behaved like children.  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -----------------------------------------------  
  
I looked up as I heard the door open; in stepped the mysterious figure at the heart of all my pain; he was dressed heavily in ornate robes, and his face was hidden, appearing as just a black emptiness in the face of his cowl.  
  
A past student had once told me that the best methods of torture didn't require the torturer to be present; if he's there, then the victim uses him as a focus point for his hatred, but if the victim is left alone, than all he can do is despair.  
  
I'd never really understood him at the time, I guess that anyone who can sit there and discuss something so gruesome as torture as if it were just a point of interest must have some real problems.  
  
What was his name? X?  
  
I now understood what he meant; I'd been strapped to this board for 3 days now without seeing anyone. My limbs were bound to the board, and there were wire cables wrapped around my upper arms and my legs. They were attached to a large weight under the table, slowly garrotting my limbs.  
  
It had started as just pins-and-needles as the mech-fluid was restricted from flowing to the extremities, but after about 2 hours, it had just become a burning sensation.  
  
The Inquisitor, as he was referred to, approached me slowly, savouring the moment.  
  
"Now Nightwing, I'll ask you once again, why did you intrude into our planet?"  
  
"I've already told you; we had no idea that this planet was inhabited; we only landed here for some soil samples."  
  
The Inquisitor just shrugged, and turned away. He paused in mid step, before quickly turning around, and resting his foot on the weight, then put all his weight down on it.  
  
I tried to contain the agony, and the guards at the door just laughed at my grimace.  
  
"By the Pit, I have no idea what you want me to tell you, just let me die."  
  
"Oh no, I can't do that, my men are having just too much fun."  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ----------------------------------------------  
  
"Nightwing, what's wrong?"  
  
I thought for a moment before I answered; how had the Captain known?  
  
I guess it was her job to pick up on behaviour changes in her crew.  
  
"Oh, nothing."  
  
She looked at me oddly, before turning back around, and walking away.  
  
I felt, I don't know, apprehensive? Scared?  
  
I had no idea how the captain was going to react; every way that I'd thought about approaching the subject made me sound like I was nuts.  
  
I didn't even get the chance to knock.  
  
"Come in."  
  
I stood awkwardly in the doorway, before being ushered over to a reclining chair.  
  
"I'd guessed that you'd be along to see me at some time, something's bothering you, isn't it?"  
  
I nodded, thinking about what to say before I actually said it.  
  
"Do you want to talk about it?"  
  
"Captain, I uh."  
  
"Call me Sara."  
  
"Thanks. Look, before I start, I'd just like to ask you to keep an open mind about what I'm about to tell you."  
  
She shrugged, like it was no big deal.  
  
"Sounds like a reasonable request."  
  
I thought again about how to begin, before finally making up my mind.  
  
"Captain, for some time now, since before I was selected for this mission, I've been having these dreams. My friends think that they're visions, but I honestly don't know. In each and every one of them, I'm out somewhere in deep space, and some sort of disaster hits; everyone's dead, most of them are pretty graphic."  
  
The captain looked thoughtful for a while, so I continued.  
  
"I spoke with the Academy nurse before I left Cybertron, she felt that they were just stress-related, and prescribed sleeping pills, in the hopes that I'd sleep better with them."  
  
The captain nodded.  
  
"Did they help any?"  
  
"If anything, they made matters worse; they were even more graphic, and were harder to wake up from."  
  
I couldn't decide how the captain was taking this, obviously she thought I was nuts, but I guess that the worse that she could do would be to confine me to my stasis pod for the rest of this trip.  
  
"You think I'm nuts, don't you." It wasn't a question.  
  
She was silent for a while, before replying.  
  
"No, I don't think that you're nuts, but I'm glad that you brought this to my attention. You don't seem like the sort of person to make that sort of thing up, and as a captain, I can't afford to be too narrow-minded. Frankly, you had me worried; I believe that the crew should be able to talk freely with the captain, and that anything that might possibly compromise the safety of the mission shouldn't be withheld. You've given me a bit to think about; I'm not totally ignorant to the ideas that seers exist. In fact, I once knew a crewmember who had the uncanny ability to predict when and where the equipment on board the ship would fail."  
  
"So, what are you gonna do?"  
  
"Obviously you felt strongly enough about this to approach me. In fact, I would have been more worried if you'd decided to keep it to yourself. You seem like the sort of person to remain levelheaded, and there's nothing wrong with dreams. I trust that if anything else comes up that you think that I should know about, that you wouldn't hesitate to inform me. The safety of the crew is of utmost importance, and if they are indeed visions, or warnings, then I'll have to be more wary of what the future holds."  
  
I blinked. "That's it?"  
  
"What did you expect? A padded room? You're still a crewmember."  
  
I nodded at the wisdom she portrayed.  
  
There was a generally sad atmosphere as we bid farewell to our new friends. We'd promised to drop back this way on the return trip, and a delegation to Cybertron was already planned.  
  
I looked out the viewport in my room one last time at the green, grey, and blue planet gliding by past before the engines lit up, carrying us onto the next leg of our journey.  
  
To be continued… 


	3. Curtain call

Disclaimer:  
  
Hasbro owns the beast wars and any G1 references that I've made, I own everything else.  
  
'Touch' and 'Dare' are performed by Stan Bush for the Transformers movie, soundtrack by Scotti Brothers.  
  
N.R.G belongs to 'Instruments of Destruction' also for the Transformers album.  
  
All these can be downloaded at www.thetransformers.net  
  
A special thanks goes to my good friend Tim Eagles; we spent many a lunch hour discussing the Masterians, and large parts of their history would not nave been possible without him.  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------  
  
It'd been almost a year and a half real-time since we'd left Cybertron; 262980 cycles, 15778800 nano-cycles, almost 12 billion astro-seconds in old money.  
  
We'd mapped out roughly .001% of the known galaxy, and had visited over 80 systems, completing nearly 22.6% of our mission.  
  
It looked as if the "negotiable" part of our projected mission time was going to be enforced.  
  
How did those fools back home ever contemplate we'd get all this done in only 4 years???  
  
The visions had become more refined in that time; they were all still mostly morbid, but there were more survivors now. They still mostly only ever struck when I was off-ship, although several more sedate ones had appeared to me while I was on board. For a time, many of them had been depicted in a specific part of the galaxy, and the captain had deployed vanguards to that sector once we were in range; they'd found various temporal anomalies, and their findings were sufficient to alter heading and only radio-chart the regions.  
  
All doubt to my sanity had been removed, and I was regularly asked by the captain if the next region we were to investigate felt suspect to me. At my request she'd kept it our secret, and even Banshee was convinced by now that maybe there was something to them.  
  
Our crew still numbered 10,000, although many of the diplomats and science crew had been deployed on various worlds to quell civil unrest, increase diplomatic relations, and study various planets. Their number had been replaced by a vast range of other species, many of whom had "swapped" their positions with members of the crew. Depending on the times needed by our crew, many of them would be picked up on the return leg of the journey. Those who required less time were to be retrieved by either patrolling vanguards, or by long-range transports.  
  
Many parts of the interior of the ship had been fitted out to make the newcomers more comfortable; the bar, which had always had a tasteless steel- grained appearance, now sported a hide of a lesser-spotted frog; it's 12- meter length completely spanning the room. Its colour pattern appeared to change colour depending on the moods of those in the bar at the time. Many people wondered at just how big the "greater" spotted frogs were.  
  
Right now the walls appeared in a psycadelic Mandelbrot fractal pattern, which reflected the generally relaxed moods of those at the bar.  
  
As usual, the four of us were together in our favourite booth, which overlooked the door. Mirage was curled up fast asleep in my lap.  
  
"So, almighty sacred one, what does the future hold for us poor weary travellers?"  
  
"Shut up Banshee."  
  
I was about to answer him with a smart-mouth comment, when one of the newcomers walked through the door.  
  
Masterians bore more than a striking resemblance to Earth cats. They stood upright at about 2 meters tall and bore surprising skill in melee combat, where they preferred to use either their naturally retracting claws, or their much larger retractable claws, which were implanted soon after birth.  
  
"Hey guys."  
  
"Oh, hi Lynx."  
  
They were a fascinating race, and appeared to possess some sort of "seer" qualities; they had a wide range of abilities, basically whatever they put their minds to. Assuming of course that they had the strength and the stamina to pull it off. It was explained to me but I didn't quite grasp the concept, but apparently Lynx and his five cousins were from a bloodline known as 'masters' who possessed a deeper control over their abilities. Their Government had recently undergone a few changes, which removed the semi-monarchical system in place of a more democratic form. Lynx was still an heir to the bloodline, but it was felt that he wasn't currently needed in the revision process, and so he volunteered to learn more about Cybertron.  
  
Rift-wing looked up from her drink. "So, tell us more about Masteria."  
  
"Could you be more specific? Which parts do you want to know more about?"  
  
"You mentioned the Dark-lords, tell us more about them."  
  
"Well, originally, the Dark-lords were just a private school for learning more about their abilities; people who showed some skill were often sent there but at some stage, they went deep into the desert to hone their skills. When they returned, they had changed their perceptions and insisted that those who weren't trained stopped using their powers. We were at war with them for nearly two centuries before finally beating them. They have lived peacefully with us for many thousands of years since, but recently they again rose up against us. We beat them again, and they've fled Masteria."  
  
Rift-wing nodded, and was about to say more, when the captain entered the room.  
  
"Ah, there you are Lynx, I was just about to show some of the Avians the engine rooms, you want to come?"  
  
"Yeah sure."  
  
We all nodded at him as he walked out the door.  
  
"So, any idea where we're going next?"  
  
I was about to answer when Brigand got up and stretched.  
  
"I don't know about you guys, but I haven't been flying for quite a while, anyone else coming?"  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------  
  
The Journeyman was currently positioned in a large nebula; this one wasn't nearly as "pretty" as Rift-wing had put it, compared to the Prime nebula, and it didn't have the total relaxing atmosphere of the latter, but it was still a chance to have some fun.  
  
"Get back here!'  
  
I laughed as I flashed past Rift-wing, she accelerated to catch me up, but I had the head start.  
  
I narrowly ducked between two large asteroids, apparently the remanents of the tail of some massive comet that had passed through here at sometime; the resultant wisp of nebula which had been dragged out into a long ribbon had earned this place the name "Comet nebula"  
  
Very original.  
  
"Hey, slow down, you know that our sensors don't work too good in amongst this interference. I'd hate to see you get splattered on the face of one of these things."  
  
Whilst I enjoyed playing with Rift-wing, she wasn't nearly as fun as Banshee; Banshee wouldn't back down from anything, and we could tell that we scared the Inferno out of each other when we raced.  
  
"Spoil sport, I just want to have some fun once in a while."  
  
She blew past me, rolled on her side, and narrowly scraped through an impact hole in one of the asteroids.  
  
"Heh heh heh, sucker."  
  
Cursing at being deceived, I lit up my engines, and followed her through.  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------  
  
The crash had thrown be about a bit; as I opened my eyes I could see that I'd been flung out a large hole in the side of the ship. The atmosphere was heavy with energon discharge, and the planet appeared to be orbited by two moons, roughly of the same size. I glanced over at the ship; its name was partially buried. The rest was covered in a layer of sand, which had turned to glass from the heat of re-entry.  
  
Axalo…  
  
What the hell?  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------  
  
We were just stepping out of the airlock, when one of the crew ran up to us; he motioned to the device on his right forearm.  
  
"The Captain requests your presence."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
Krshyyyk turned to go. No one could effectively pronounce the name of his race, and even those who got it seemingly spot on were laughed at for trying; it was seemingly a joke to them to hear others try. As a result, we'd given them all devices which resembled the external chronos that many species wore. Inbuilt into them were a tiny voice modulator, which allowed them the ability to at least have a two-way conversation with the rest of the crew.  
  
He appeared to be some sort of reptile, although the scientific tests actually classified them as mammal. They looked like a picture of an earth dinosaur that I'd seen once; they had a stiff, rod-like tail, and a large sharp killer-claw on their hind legs, but unlike the Earth dinosaurs their clawed hands were surprisingly agile, and easily handled equipment designed for Cybertronians, as well as many other more dextrous races.  
  
We both transformed; my fighter wings thinned out, and moved to the tops of my shoulders to stand straight up. The fighter nose swing down to become part of my chest; the cockpit went from being a transparent gold colour to being a solid chrome before flattening out. When I was in robot mode it was almost impossible to tell that it even was a cockpit; aside from the long thin wings atop my shoulders, it was difficult to even tell that my alternate mode was a jet.  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------  
  
"You wanted to see us?"  
  
"Actually, I only wanted to see Nightwing, but since you're here Rift-wing, you might was continue the tour of the ship."  
  
She nodded, before leading a group of five or so Avians away; many of the females aboard the ship went all mushy at the sight of their colourful plumage, but I didn't see what the fuss was about; it wasn't that I hated "fleshys" like so many before me had. In fact, I quite liked many of them, but the Avians seemed far too fragile to me. For a space-faring race it was almost odd; even the 'fleshling' humans had a certain resourcefulness about them when it came to fighting.  
  
My thoughts were interrupted by the captain's next comment.  
  
"I'll get right to the point; for the last mega-cycle, we've been picking up a strange signal from deep in the nebula. It took us a while to decode it, but it's definitely decaying. We estimate that their transmitter must be running out of power; we estimate only about a day before it stops transmitting completely. What are your thoughts on this?"  
  
"Why ask me? Do you suspect there could possibly be something wrong in that area?"  
  
"Not to be paranoid, but quite frankly there seems to be something suspect about the signal; it appears almost Cybertronian, but a signal of that sort hasn't been used since the beginning of the third Great War."  
  
"So in other words, the signal is almost…"  
  
"It's been transmitting since at least before the time that the Ark was lost from Cybertron."  
  
I involuntarily shivered; it was at least 4 million years old, my vision of being stuck in the faulty stasis pod flashed into my mind.  
  
"Hmm, I agree. There is something a bit fishy about all this; it really doesn't feel right to me, but if someone's in trouble than we at least need to investigate."  
  
The captain nodded gravely. It was a difficult position; on one hand, we had to consider the well being of the crew. In particular, those who were on board as diplomatic envoys; it wouldn't sit too well with their planets if they were all killed due the rashness of those who's care they were entrusted to, but on the other hand we had to consider the possibility that there may be survivors out there who desperately need our help.  
  
"Helmsman, alter course for the following coordinates."  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------  
  
The pictures that the advance scouts brought back weren't encouraging. No one had ever seen anything like it; there were thousands upon thousands of ships, all derelict husks, completely gutted from the inside out. A few ships were identified as belonging to some of the species that we'd made contact with, and there even a few which bore a slight resemblance to ancient Cybertronian freighters; if they weren't from home, then wherever they'd come from had been visited by us at some stage long enough to influence their own development.  
  
The ships were arranged in an almost sperical array; our sensor sweeps showed that the closer they got to the centre, the older the ships were.  
  
My head was literally screaming to get out of there, but the signal would be extinguished in less than four cycles.  
  
Lynx walked up behind me and pointed to a floating piece of debris.  
  
"That's the Evrantéé. It was the prototype of our new long-range hyper-jump technology. The Dark-lords stole it from us when they fled the planet. At least, it was once."  
  
"Do you think that they were still aboard?"  
  
"Not all of them, we know from intelligence reports that they've formed several enclaves on some of the planets that they held during the war. They might have even scuttled the ship and left it drift. The Dark-lords aren't stupid, not by far."  
  
Several others also craned their necks and fingers forward to point out things that they recognised.  
  
The captain waited until most of the crowd had settled down before beginning.  
  
"Ok, we'll need a rescue team, Nightwing, I need you to go with them." that was strange; usually she quietly told me to go with them, I wonder what's on her mind? "Lynx, I want you to go with them, all of you will suit up in heavy E-suits; there's no telling what's out there, and we can't afford to take any chances. If they are indeed Cybertronian, then the last thing I need is for members of my crew to contract something previously un- encountered."  
  
Well, at least that explained why she was so edgy; she did a great job of concealing it. But somehow I doubted that a virus was what fate had in store for us…  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------  
  
The E-suits were designed to conform to any body shape, and thus were semi- transforming to do so. As a result, even Krshyyyk's suit fitted him easily, or at least as easily as a power-assisted bomb-proof/vacuum-proof/corrosion- proof/everything-proof suit weighing over three tons could fit anyone easily.  
  
"Hey Rift-wing."  
  
"Yeah what?"  
  
"Why is a raven like a writing desk?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"It's an old Earth tradition; if you tell half a riddle, then you have to come back to finish it."  
  
She smiled awkwardly at the sentiment; she wasn't a fool either, she knew that something was up.  
  
"Just come back to me."  
  
Even though the rescue craft was designed to accommodate E-suits, it was still very awkward; the suits tried to make it more comfortable, but short of blowing cold air into your face, there wasn't a lot that they could do.  
  
"What the heck is that?"  
  
I looked over to where the ensign was peering out the view-port; there was something appearing out of the mists of the nebula, giving the eerie effect of it materialising out of thin air err, vacuum.  
  
"Open hailing frequencies." I paused as I heard the crackle of the transmitter scanning all channels, "This is Nightwing of the exploration ship Journeyman. We received your distress beacon, how can we assist?"  
  
The holo-projector in the middle of the console activated, showing a 3-D scene from what could only be called the 'bridge'  
  
The voice appeared to come from all around; a great booming voice that echoed around the ship.  
  
"ALLOW US IT INTORDUCE OURSELVES; WE ARE THE ONE. WE ARE GLAD THAT YOU DECIDED TO RESPOND TO OUR BEACON; IT SHOWS COMPASSION IN YOUR SPECIES. HOWEVER, IT WILL ALSO BE YOUR DOWNFALL."  
  
"May I be so bold as to request to know where you got the distress codes from a Cybertronian vessel from? To our knowledge, no vessel has ever been this far out."  
  
"YOU ARE FROM THE HOMEWORLD? THEN YOU AT LEAST DESERVE AN EXPLANATION BEFORE YOU ARE ASSIMILATED."  
  
The holo seemed to flicker rapidly, drawing our attention to it; soon it appeared that we were actually 'in' the holo, the booming voice became seemingly quieter.  
  
"Many eons ago, our forefathers fled Cybertron sometime during the third Great war."  
  
We appeared to be standing back on Cybertron, in the distance could be seen a sleek silver ship just leaving it's docking clamps.  
  
"We searched for at least 2 generations, before we finally found another planet like Cybertron; it was an asteroid, but one made of metal." the scene changed again.  
  
"Then, the Chaos-bringer appeared."  
  
The next scene was one of utter destruction; fires were burning everywhere; the one total dominating element of view was the large yellow maw of the only one to ever bear the title of Chaos-bringer.  
  
Unicron.  
  
"We had been warned by a survivor from another world of his approach so we were ready; we managed to evacuate just 46% of the total population."  
  
The next scene showed a convoy of perhaps 100 ships.  
  
"However, it appears that our escape was observed; the Chaos-bringers harbingers of death. The Order of chaos, relentlessly hunted us down. Our ships were much faster than theirs, but it meant running the engines at emergency power full-time. Many of the ships couldn't handle it and fell behind."  
  
The line of ships could be seen in front of a star-studded background; the stars were slightly elongated. Suddenly, one of the ships shuddered, and fell out of formation; a swarm of black ships, previously masked by the blackness of space appeared, and instantly lanced the poor ship with many purple beam weapons. Another ship simply shuddered itself apart, causing a debris field for the others to fly through; at least 3 were hit by larger chunks. One exploded, and the other two were attacked viciously by the black fighters.  
  
"Eventually, we sought refuge amongst the nebula; the ships of the Order attempted to scan for us, but the nebula blocked their sensor sweeps. We managed to catch one of their craft which followed us in and couldn't transmit for help. We found the inhabitants to resemble giant green algae; we interrogated the sole surviving member, and found that the Chaos-bringer was after the one thing that could possibly damage it; the éstll device."  
  
The picture showed the symbol of Autobot unity and justice.  
  
The Matrix of leadership.  
  
"Their ship was the first to be assimilated into the One."  
  
"The Order tried many times to find us, but over time every ship that went in never came out; they figured that something must have been in here and that there was no way that it wouldn't have gotten us too."  
  
"Over time, our numbers grew less and less; it appeared that the captured organisms carried an anti-body which was infectious to us. As more and more of us succumbed, the weak gave way to the strong; three distinct groups became apparent; those who were caught were cannibalised for parts to keep the remaining ships alive."  
  
"Soon there were just three ships left. We managed to finally ambush one of the others. Then were two. Then One."  
  
The scene changed to show a huge ship; a horrible twisted mass of parts. It hovered next to pieces of discarded hull plating, rotating slowly in the coldness of space.  
  
"Soon however, even the One began to succumb to the ravages of time. Fortunately, a colony ship from an unknown race appeared close to the nebula; we hailed it."  
  
The scene changed; an egg-shaped ship which dwarfed even the One was shown hovering close by.  
  
"We ambushed it out of the depths, and destroyed their engines before they even got a chance to realise we were there. They were actually a pitiful race; only a few meters tall, they begged us to let them go; they were the sole survivors of a planet that had been destroyed by the radiation sweep of a nearby pulsar."  
  
"Whether it was their constant pleading, or that by some twist of fate; we shared the same beginnings, it is unknown. However, we sympathised with them. But, if they were released, than the Order would learn of our whereabouts. We did the only thing possible; we uploaded their minds into the ships computer, and jettisoned the lifeless bodies."  
  
"This turn of events solved a dilemma that had been plaguing us for many centuries. There were only a handful of the crew left; the others had succumbed to the ravages of time, and so there wasn't enough of them left to continue. Many of the crew had already permanently connected themselves to the ships computer in an attempt for better interface. It was only a simple matter to assimilate their minds into the One. Their bodies were recycled into components."  
  
The scene again changed, showing the ball of ships growing over time, the One being constantly upgraded and repaired. The final scene was one of the Journeyman. approaching. The holo faded back to the tiny cylinder resting on the dashboard.  
  
"AND NOW, THE FINAL CHAPTER IS STILL BEING WRITTEN; YOUR DEATHS WILL MEAN LIFE FOR US. DEATH AFTER LIFE. LIFE AFTER DEATH. THE CYCLE MUST GO ON."  
  
"BUT, SINCE YOU ARE CYBERTRONIAN, WE WILL GIVE A SPORTING CHANCE; YOU MAY RETURN TO YOUR SHIP WITH OUR WARNING. YOU HAVE 10 CYCLES TO RETURN TO YOUR SHIP, AND EXPLAIN TO YOUR CREW THEIR FATE."  
  
"It doesn't have to be that way; a lot has taken place over the millennia; the Chaos-bringer was destroyed nearly 400 years ago. His minions have been routed, and the wars on Cybertron are over. You could return with us if you so desired."  
  
"NO, THAT ISN'T ACCEPTABLE. POWER CORRUPTS. IF YOU HAVE INDEED DESTROYED THE CHAOS-BRINGER, THEN YOU ARE MORE OF A THREAT TO THE GALAXY THAN HE EVER WAS."  
  
"You're wrong; the Matrix can only be used for good, the Cybertronians have matured much in the millennia since you departed, it is an age of peace and prosperity."  
  
"PERHAPS. PERHAPS FOR NOW. BUT EVEN THE PUREST CAN BE TAINTED. EVEN THE ÉSTLL DEVICE MAY BE TAINTED, GIVEN TIME. I ADVISE YOU LEAVE NOW, YOU HAVE 6 CYCLES REMAINING."  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------  
  
The captain gravely listened to our turn of events before proceeding.  
  
"Helmsman, can we possibly outrun them?"  
  
"Negative; their engines are far larger than ours. Besides, we've detected a magnetic anomaly just off the bow; it appears to be the focal point of a grav-well. We can still move about freely, but not fast enough to outrun the grav-well."  
  
The captain swivelled in her chair, contemplating battle tactics, "All crews to your battlestations."  
  
Klaxons sounded, red lighting on the walls rotated, in all it was very dramatic. Pity the situation was so serious.  
  
Those who could fly were outside, along with any off-world pilots who were good enough to be granted a gunboat. The rest of the crew were manning the guns.  
  
It was a spectacular scene; the gargantuan gun shields which Banshee and I had raced between slid back, revealing heavy cannons large enough to fit at least three fighters abreast down the barrel without fear of colliding. Torpedo ports slid open along the sides; all traces of the peaceful exploration ship were gone. In its place was a juggernaut, completely covered in munitions and blast shields to protect the weaker parts.  
  
We were arranged in a loose formation between the ship and the direction that the One was last seen.  
  
My wing consisted of our usual four, plus at their insistence, Lynx and Krshyyyk's gunboats.  
  
Between the ship and us were a pair of R-class corvettes; they had been specially stowed onboard the Journeyman. to provide more firepower which could be brought to bear independently of the mothership.  
  
If I was impressed with the transformation of the Journeyman, than I was completely blown away by the sight of the One launching it's fighters.  
  
They simply appeared to blossom out from every direction of the ship; it was like an explosion. Too many to get a close scan on, they just appeared as a fog to the sensors.  
  
I zoomed in on one of them; it was perhaps only one to two meters long, and very simple. From what I could tell. It had to be just a remote drone.  
  
They partially resembled a creature that Brigand had eaten called a 'horseshoe crab', but it had two tiny gun muzzles sticking out of the front of it's shell, looking like fangs. I could see a fair bit of 'Order' fighter in it from what I'd seen from the holo-simulation, but there were also lots of other components.  
  
After their starburst appearance, they all grouped together like a massive wave, before swarming towards us. No, not swarming, more like waving, the same way that a shoal of fish travels.  
  
I opened a channel with the rest of the fleet, "All right listen up; there's no way that we can effectively hope to hit fighters of that size; they're just too manoeuvrable. I recommend that all fighters set weapons to maximum dispersion; they can't be too heavily shielded, and you'll have more of a chance of hitting multiple targets. I want all fighters to channel all auxiliary power to shields; we can't manoeuvre with them, so don't try. Channel 92% of manoeuvre power into shields as well."  
  
As if just to prove my point, at that instant, one of the main guns fired into the swarm.  
  
Whoever said that you can't hear anything in space has obviously never been in a space battle; you don't need to 'hear'. You can 'feel' the energy discharge from the weapons.  
  
The shot lanced straight towards the centre of the mass; they easily evaded it. Moving as one, they opened up a hole in the middle of their swarm, and the massive energy blast passed harmlessly between them.  
  
"Lets rumble!"  
  
A pair of speakers popped up from the dash inside my cockpit.  
  
I always fight better with some combat music.  
  
'Dare' had always been one of my favourite pieces; there was something about it that always peaked my concentration.  
  
Sometimes when your hopes have all been shattered  
  
There's nowhere left to turn.  
  
You wonder how you keep going.  
  
I fired my ion cannons, set on maximum dispersion. Because of the dispersion they weren't as focused as they normally would have been. As a result, the targets didn't disintegrate, they just floated lifelessly.  
  
Think of all the things that really mattered  
  
And the changes you made.  
  
"Heads up guys, this is gonna be difficult; make sure your targets are live before you waste your shots."  
  
The fire in your heart keeps burning.  
  
The corvettes moved into position and began a rapid chain-fire from their 6 quad-turrets.  
  
A double-ellipse with a random variation, considered by many to be one of the best firing patterns available.  
  
I weaved in between the shots, my squad remaining in formation.  
  
I was hit once. Twice. Thrice. Shielding now at 99.75%  
  
I heard Krshyyyk's synthesised voice over the comm., "Their weapons aren't even scratching the shields!"  
  
"Be careful; enough of 'em will."  
  
You can fly, if you try leaving the past behind  
  
Heaven only knows what you might find.  
  
My sensors registered a steadily growing cloud of 'greys', but there were still an immense cloud of still-active fighters.  
  
Dare! Dare to believe you can survive!  
  
You hold the future in your hand.  
  
Dare! Dare to keep all your dreams alive!  
  
It's time to make a stand  
  
The One moved closer to the Journeyman. It completely dwarfed the smaller ship, but the Journeyman's guns helped even up the difference.  
  
You can win if you dare.  
  
I opened a channel with rift-wing.  
  
Instruments of destruction, tools of powerplay.  
  
"I thought you only liked Touch."  
  
She laughed, "And Instruments of destruction."  
  
"I was thinking of going on a little strafing run, you interested on joining me?"  
  
"Do you need to ask?"  
  
Next, I keyed in Brigands channel. The music through the comm. nearly deafened me.  
  
"Hey Brigand, turn it down would you?"  
  
The music dropped off sharply.  
  
"What the Inferno is that stuff anyway?"  
  
"The humans call it 'techno', Sphinx gave it to me."  
  
"Sounds like whoever wrote it was in incredible torture."  
  
"I agree; it can't be good for his concentration."  
  
"Shut up Banshee."  
  
"All right the both of you, we're going on a bit of a strafing run, care to join us?"  
  
I didn't need an answer.  
  
I had to smile to myself; here we were fighting for our lives, and we were acting like we always were. I suppose it was the best way to alleviate the tension we all felt.  
  
Everybody's trying to break your spirit, keeping you down.  
  
Seems like it's been forever.  
  
We tore down the right flank of the One; several rotary turrets locked on to us, and started spraying inch-long flechette at us.  
  
"Reset your weapons to point-accuracy, we're not gonna be able to repel firepower of that magnitude for long."  
  
My pulse-cannon blasts just went right through the skin; it wasn't dense enough for them to discharge.  
  
"What's with their armour; it's like paper!"  
  
I retried the strafing run with incinerators; the skin seared, but that was all.  
  
"Nightwing, I read a wing of the fighters has broken off, and is advancing on us."  
  
"Pull out."  
  
It couldn't really be called a 'wing'; it was just a fluid-like arm of the main swarm stretching out towards us.  
  
But there's another voice if you'll just here it  
  
Saying it's the last round.  
  
Looks like it's now or never  
  
I fired all my weapons at it; perhaps a thousand ships destroyed. Not even a noticeable loss.  
  
Out of the darkness you stumbled into the light  
  
Fighting for the things you know are right!  
  
We were in bad shape; a quick scan of our forces showed we were doing poorly; we were all running low on ammo and power, and we'd only reduced the swarm by about 3%.  
  
Dare! Dare to believe you can survive!  
  
The power is there at your command.  
  
Dare! Dare to keep all your dreams alive  
  
It's time to take a stand.  
  
And you can win if you dare!  
  
One of the corvettes was on fire; the atmosphere inside feeding it. Still the fighters swarmed around it, lancing it from every angle. It was still firing from its two remaining turrets; still firing in the dual ellipse, still with the random variation.  
  
I could hear/feel the energy discharge of the main guns opening up; the two capital ships had pulled alongside each other. Another broadside from the Journeyman was met by thousands of tiny pinpricks of light lancing from the One.  
  
Half of the remaining swarm broke off and began firing on the Journeyman; it might take several mega-cycles, but eventually they'd get through the armour.  
  
There was a whooshing sound of the torpedo ports firing; they passed right through the one without detonating.  
  
The corvette finally exploded; I saw a large escape pod narrowly miss the blast.  
  
The song looped back around for the sixth time and reached a crescendo.  
  
"Dare! Dare to believe you can survive!"  
  
That was the last thing I heard, talk about irony.  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------  
  
Everything seemed to freeze; even the explosion from the corvette.  
  
Everything faded to white; almost so slowly that I didn't perceive it at first. The glare became unbearable.  
  
The blinding white slowly began to fade back to black.  
  
All battle-chatter from the comms ceased; it was deathly quiet for a moment, the only sound being the ringing in my ears from my combat music.  
  
Then I heard it; a sombre synthesised piece of music. It sent shivers down my back.  
  
I recognised the piece immediately; I'd watched that footage over and over.  
  
A melancholy procession; Ultra-Magnus, Kup, Rodimus Prime, Springer, Blurr, and the surviving Autobots. Between them was a large stone coffin, the destination being the Morgue-ship. What was to be the final resting place of Optimus Prime. It was the only time that Arcee had ever worn black; she had completely broken down in Springers arms.  
  
I can't say that I blamed her.  
  
No one knew where they had found the music from, but Jazz and Blaster had played the very piece that I was now listening to. It was fitting that such a great warrior be sent off with so much honour.  
  
"Greetings Nightwing, We've been expecting you." The voice seemed to be inside my head.  
  
So, this is the Pit, but… what happened?  
  
The voice seemed to read my mind, "No, this isn't the Pit."  
  
"Wh-who are you?"  
  
"Ah, always that question first. Lesser species than yourself think that we are gods, but you are far too advanced to believe that."  
  
"What the slags going on here?"  
  
"Perhaps We should explain from the beginning."  
  
"Near the dawn of time, there was a technologically advanced race known as the Therans. They existed in harmony with nature, and used their technologies to make a difference. They were responsible for creating many races, and populating many planets."  
  
"Over time, they reached the absolute peak of their development. But, there were still lots to be done."  
  
"The only choice available required them to forfeit their physical bodies, and become ethereal beings."  
  
"By shedding the last physical traces of our existence, We became as we are now."  
  
There was an expectant pause; I took the first opportunity I had since I'd arrived here to look around.  
  
Surrounding us was an all-encompassing blackness. Not the blackness of space, which is just an absence of light, but a solid, tangible, inky blackness.  
  
No wait; if I looked closer, I could see countless colourful strands; so thin that they were almost invisible.  
  
I still wasn't completely convinced that this wasn't the Pit.  
  
"Not wanting to seem rude or anything, but if this isn't the Pit, then why am I here?"  
  
A blinding-white orb appeared in front of me, I knew that this must be one of the creatures.  
  
The shape resolved itself into an instantly recognisable figure.  
  
Optimus Prime.  
  
Well, that confirmed my suspicions.  
  
"We appear in front of you as a familiar figure; we have found that it is more relaxing to our guests than if we appeared in our own form."  
  
"Mostly, we examine from afar; any species that reaches the stage of development where they are ready to explore the galaxy is observed; such curiosity is the first step on the road to perfection. If the species shows extreme potential, we may even help to spur it on."  
  
"However, your species is a special case; your race has been space-faring for millennia, whereas most are only just starting out."  
  
"We felt it prudent to examine your species in much closer depths; you were to be chosen as our 'subject'. "  
  
An idea began to form in my head.  
  
"Your spark was chosen from before it was created for a special purpose; we avoided making too many changes, but we decided to alter it very slightly to make it easier for us to observe."  
  
"My combat skills?"  
  
"Ah yes, that was an unforseen side-effect."  
  
"Not wanting to tamper too much, we made the few minor changes, and then left your development to you. We were very pleased with your progress, and were startled to see how easily you adapted to changes. It is indicative of very good traits in your species."  
  
"So, you mean to say that my whole life has been your experiment? I'm just something you created to experiment on?"  
  
"No, not at all; your spark was simply randomly chosen, and tagged to make it easier to observe and, if the situation ever arose, to possibly feed you subconscious information. The rest was just observation on our part. Other than that, you are no different than any other member of your species. Shall I continue?"  
  
I nodded.  
  
"We knew in advance that your species would make an exploration craft within your lifetime, but again we were startled at how easily the opportunity arose for you to be a part of it, which is what we had intended from the very outset."  
  
"However, whilst your development showed immense potential for your species, We observed that your race is very war-like. As a result, we subjected you to many hypothetical scenarios, in order to see how you would react."  
  
"The visions?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"But how could visions of slaughter possibly reflect our war-like traits."  
  
Primes face seemed to slump.  
  
"How much of them do you remember?"  
  
"Usually from the time that the deaths start."  
  
"Nothing before?"  
  
I shook my head.  
  
"Do you remember the first? The one with the black spheres?"  
  
I nodded.  
  
"How much do you remember of it?"  
  
"I was sitting at a terminal, it was broken, it came back on just as the ship fired."  
  
"Allow us to jog your memory."  
  
I appeared to be back on the bridge.  
  
"Lieutenant; I'm picking up something on the scanners."  
  
"Display it."  
  
The all-too familiar terminal at which I was working showed a small vessel, about the size of a multi-seat escape pod.  
  
The comm. crackled to life; the visual scene showed the inhabitants; five robotic creatures.  
  
"Please. Help us. We are dying."  
  
I examined their faces closely, before pulling back in shock and revulsion.  
  
They were infected with what appeared to be small mite-like parasites, which were busily tearing away at their metal components.  
  
"Sir, should we bring them in?"  
  
It was my call; the Captain was elsewhere on the ship.  
  
"Negative. Whatever they have, it would be better if it stayed on their ship; there's no telling what damage it could do to us."  
  
"Very well sir."  
  
The faces on the comm. pleaded with us, begged us to assist.  
  
I finally switched the comm. off; the screen switched back to showing their tiny vessel.  
  
Suddenly, their vessel flickered, the hologram of the escape pod vanished. In its place was the massive ship from my dream.  
  
My terminal spluttered, and flickered off.  
  
I tried restarting it; even hitting it.  
  
"Slagging, festering damn heap of junk; by the Pit!"  
  
The scene flickered, and was gone.  
  
"We set up the hypothetical situations, but they were your judgement calls."  
  
"Oh."  
  
I kinda felt a bit guilty; I'd matured a lot on this voyage, and I wouldn't have made the same judgement call today.  
  
Several others were explained in a similar fashion; they were all either my bad calls, or accidents on my behalf.  
  
"But, you did something completely unexpected; you began to perceive them as visions of the future. In doing so, you began to manipulate them to your own advantage. You began to see real situations from the future, no longer hypothetical ones. In doing so, were able to avoid many possible hazards; you saved the ship, albeit unwittingly, on numerous occasions. It really is quite astounding."  
  
"But, I've matured much since then; those were the decisions I would have made before I undertook the journey."  
  
"We realise that, and that is why in many of your more recent 'visions', you've managed to lessen, and in some cases completely remove the threats. But, the point still remains that without the experiences of the last year and a half; you would still most likely be making those bad calls."  
  
I finished the thought for them, "So, if someone from Cybertron with no experience were put in similar situations, then they would most likely be responsible for many deaths."  
  
"Exactly; your species has immense potential, but it must develop to the stage where you don't make such errors, even without experience, before we consider intervening and revealing ourselves to you.  
  
It is true that you should learn from your mistakes, but it is far better not to make them in the first instance."  
  
I thought this over; it all made sense now, but there were still some questions I had to have answered.  
  
"The vision where I was being tortured…"  
  
"Ah yes, that one is a conundrum; for that one instant, you actually exceeded even our power, and caught a glimpse of yourself in another reality. Even We cannot willingly leave this reality without causing untold damage."  
  
"The last vision I had, I was awake; I saw a ship crashed on an unknown planet."  
  
"We thought long and hard before finally deciding to let you see that one."  
  
"But what was it?"  
  
"There was the possibility that your 'visions' may have frightened you sufficiently to prevent you from joining this mission. Consider that our contingency. If you had indeed declined, than you would have felt guilty when the Journeyman got into trouble. Had this happened, than the ship in your vision would have been dispatched to render assistance, and you would have leapt at the chance to save your friends. Don't worry too much over that ship; fate has other things in store for it."  
  
I had one last question.  
  
"Now what?"  
  
"That is for you to decide." he gestured to the coloured strands before continuing, "These strands represent the individual timelines of each life that ever existed. It is of course only one way of looking at it, but it is the easiest to manipulate. If we ever need to."  
  
I looked closer at one of the closer segments; it showed numerous tiny strands, all binding together into one. There were currently two of these larger strands; one much longer than the other. Towards the end they had both frayed; many of the once-again singular strands abruptly ending.  
  
"This represents the current battle; the longer strand is the lives of all those who have ever interacted with the entity known as the One, the other is your ship. I don't think that I need to explain the ends."  
  
"They are extinguished life forces?"  
  
Prime's image nodded.  
  
"We already know what will happen; it has already been decided, but it is up to you to decide on the course of action; it is possible that you can change the outcome."  
  
I again looked closely at the lines; I began to get feelings off them if I concentrated on specific ones.  
  
After a while, I could begin to pick up specific time-lines; mine, Brigands, Banshees, Lynx', even Mirage.  
  
Don't try to concentrate on seeing what each individual strand holds; that is impossible. Instead, focus on how they interact.  
  
I tried looking ahead down the lines; there appeared to be a fog or something obscuring my view of the future.  
  
"It all depends on the decisions you make as to the outcome of the future."  
  
I focused on a line that I had identified as Rift-wings; it and mine were always close; towards the end, just before the fog, the line seemed to turn transparent; I noticed many others doing the same.  
  
"There are many possible solutions to achieve the desired outcome, but many have their costs; the transparent ones have uncertain futures."  
  
"Is there a way to save them?"  
  
"Yes, but it is for you to decide."  
  
I began to formulate ideas; I watched and noticed now many of the lines solidified, and how some disappeared with each idea.  
  
Finally, they were all solid.  
  
Except one.  
  
"Are you sure that is the course you wish to take?"  
  
"The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few."  
  
The entity nodded, "Optimus Prime would have been glad to have known you."  
  
"I know that it's immaterial now, but could you possibly reverse whatever you did to my spark before I leave?"  
  
"It can be done."  
  
"Could you possibly leave me with the fighting skills?"  
  
"That can also be done; you may indeed need them."  
  
The scene again became white, when it had cleared I was back where I'd left.  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------  
  
The shockwave from the explosion of the corvette finally hit me.  
  
I knew what I had to do.  
  
I turned and flew toward the One, I saw lynx being harassed by perhaps a hundred of the swarming fighters; his rear shield glowed only very weakly when their shots hit it.  
  
"Hang on Lynx, I'm coming."  
  
I fired one of my energy bombs into the heart of the swarm before remotely detonating it.  
  
"Thanks, you saved my life."  
  
I again turned back to were the two behemoths were busy blasting each other; the One was full of large holes, but without their being anything dense enough for the shells to explode against, they weren't doing that much damage. Certainly nothing critical.  
  
The Journeyman was looking the worse for wear; great chinks in the armour plating were beginning to appear.  
  
I saw my opening; a large blast-hole that went right through the One.  
  
I flew inside it, narrowly missing the shots from both its cannons, and from the swarm that had locked on to me.  
  
I transformed back to robot mode and took a look around; the inside of the ship was basically hollow; they'd probably recycled whatever decking there was into more components.  
  
No wonder the shots from the Journeyman weren't doing anything; there was nothing inside for them to damage.  
  
Except me.  
  
With that thought I hurried forwards to where I'd assumed the 'bridge' to be.  
  
I wasn't disappointed, although it looked nothing like the bridge that had been shown in the holo image.  
  
All I could see was an immense sphere; I guessed it was the central computer; the Heart, Brain, and Soul of the ship.  
  
It was surrounded by an absolutely massive energy shield; I doubted if even the Journeyman could pierce it  
  
I walked down a catwalk towards what appeared to be an access panel; it was also heavily shielded.  
  
I ran my hand along the face of the shield; I doubted if I'd be able to penetrate it.  
  
I pulled out my energon sword; I felt the familiar weight-effect as I activated it, before plunging it deep into the shield.  
  
The blade simply deflected to one side.  
  
I pulled out my plasma carbine, set it to maximum and fired at the access panel.  
  
The shield glowed an electric-blue for a few seconds, before dissipating the shot across its surface.  
  
This wasn't going to be easy.  
  
After wracking my brain for several cycles, I finally thought of one more solution.  
  
I reached into one of my subspace pockets, and withdrew a leather package; I carefully unwrapped the gift I'd been given an eternity ago.  
  
For the second time ever, I activated the sonic knife; its blade grew white hot.  
  
I rammed it into the access panel. It spluttered, and with a lot of effort, finally penetrated the shield. Right into the control panel.  
  
The power cell in the handle blew, it could easily be repaired.  
  
The shield over the access door flickered once, and then disappeared.  
  
I entered slowly, not quite knowing what to expect.  
  
Suspended in the centre of the room, was a massive glowing sphere.  
  
"Warning; Stasis lock imminent; energon field will cause paralysis in less than two cycles."  
  
Plenty of time.  
  
I slowly approached the sphere; it was pitted and appeared like a fleshling brain, except it wasn't organic.  
  
I activated my energon sword; it flickered once in the high-energy field, before staying on.  
  
I shifted my grip so that it was pointing down; I gripped it with both hands.  
  
"No regrets."  
  
I plunged the shimmering blade down into the sphere.  
  
Everything went white. There was no music playing this time.  
  
Rift-wing…  
  
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Epilogue.  
  
"Nightwing."  
  
He voice was distant; very faint.  
  
"Nightwing." The voice called again, but more urgent.  
  
"Go away, I'm comfortable here."  
  
"Nightwing!"  
  
"Alright, alright! I'm coming."  
  
I opened my eyes.  
  
Everyone was standing around me.  
  
The captain spoke up, "It's ok, you're back with us now."  
  
"What happened?"  
  
Rift-wing spoke up; she'd been crying, although without tears. She looked like she hadn't slept in weeks.  
  
"You scared us to death."  
  
Banshee stepped forward, "I didn't know you had it in you."  
  
I repeated my question.  
  
The captain spoke up.  
  
"We didn't know what was happening; we were in pretty bad shape. Suddenly, the One simply started blowing up from the inside. We had no idea what was happening."  
  
"We realised later that you were missing; Lynx said that he'd seen you heading toward the ship."  
  
" We found your body drifting amongst the wreckage, we guessed what you'd done. It's a wonder that your body wasn't destroyed in the explosion, but your spark was extinguished. We prepared your body for a heroes farewell."  
  
"However, Lynx came to me and told me that he wanted to try something."  
  
Lynx spoke up for the first time; he looked incredibly weary, and speaking was a real effort.  
  
"I owed you enough to try; I really didn't know if it would work or not."  
  
"Lynx tried an ancient ritual of his people; the effort almost killed him too, but he managed to return your spark from its resting place in the matrix. You've been in a coma for nearly three months now."  
  
I turned weakly to Lynx, "You gonna be ok?"  
  
"Yeah sure, it just took a lot out of me. Now we're even."  
  
A thought occurred to me, "How many others survived the battle?"  
  
"Surprisingly, there were no casualties, thanks to you. It seems that the fighters left us alone as soon as our guys were knocked offline. Whether they thought they were dead, or just no longer a threat, I guess we'll never know. The ship suffered 84% damage to the external hull, we'll put in for repairs when we arrive back at Masteria. Luckily, only the external hull was damaged. Nothing vital."  
  
We small talked for a while, not much had happened in the three months that I'd been out of it.  
  
Someone opened the door to leave; Mirage ran into the room, jumped on the bed, and began trying to lick the organics of my face.  
  
I scratched his ears; as happy to see him as he was to see me.  
  
"And that's the reason why we kept him out of here until you were better." the captain laughed.  
  
One by one, my visitors left. Only Mirage and Rift-wing stayed.  
  
There was a long silence while neither of us could speak.  
  
"I was so scared, I."  
  
I held up my hand.  
  
"I know."  
  
"Nightwing, I never got to tell you this, but…"  
  
"I know. I feel the same way."  
  
"When Lynx said that there was a chance that he could get you back, you can't believe the hope that filled me. I don't know what would have happened if he'd failed."  
  
She started crying again, I held her for a long while.  
  
She sat up, still sniffling.  
  
"Well?"  
  
"Well what?"  
  
"Why 'is' a raven like a writing desk?"  
  
I smiled.  
  
  
  
It was a lush green world. It reminded me of old Earth.  
  
Rift-wing and I were sitting on a bench outside a huge wooden house that overlooked a large tranquil lake. Mirage was with us, birds sang. We both just sat there, enjoying each other's company, I could hear birds singing in the trees, grasshoppers chirping in the grass. Everything was relaxed.  
  
I smiled, not wanting this vision to end any time soon. 


End file.
